


To Tell An Age Old Story

by jsmp_415



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol Withdrawal, Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Historical, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Eventual mpreg, First Time, Idiots in Love, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mpreg, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Slow Burn, Smut, Tags Are Hard, Villain Character Death, Virgin Daryl Dixon, Vomiting, Will Dixon is a horrible person, depictions of violence, do not copy to another site, mentions of mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2020-08-20 20:40:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 39,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20234026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jsmp_415/pseuds/jsmp_415
Summary: Richard Grimes, the Earl of Kent, is having trouble finding a spouse. After being wounded at the Battle of Waterloo, no man or woman of society will marry a man with so many physical and emotional scars. Daryl Dixon lives with his father and brother on the Earl’s property, trying to keep them all fed and his brother from succumbing to the demons that haunt him from fighting in France. After Rick is rejected again, and Daryl’s father misses the rent one too many times, Rick asks for Daryl’s hand in marriage in exchange for his father’s debt.Or: Beauty and the Beast, Rickyl style





	1. Prologue & Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So basically, this is Rickyl meets England in the 1820s, meets Beauty and the Beast(1991). A few things to know before you start reading: this is NOT historically accurate, but I love this time period and I thought it fit the story well. I know very little about British aristocracy, what I do know is courtesy of Downton Abbey, so please forgive any inaccuracies there. I did decide for Rick to be the Earl of Kent deliberately because (according to Wikipedia) the title was not used at this time. When I wrote about the layout of the manor and the characters of the household staff, I did have Downton Abbey in my mind, if you wanted to picture that while reading. I probably could have done more research, but the story line and fairytale aspect were more important to me. I tried to follow the Beauty and the Beast story line as closely as I could without messing with my own ideas, there are a lot of references and even full lines pulled from the movie(1991) but this is rated Explicit for a reason! As in, this is not an innocent Disney movie, so please pay attention to the tags. I tried to keep everyone as true to character as possible, but with the time period and fairytale stuff, I think some of them slip out of character from time to time. This is also my first mpreg attempt, so I hope it goes well!
> 
> For purposes of this story, Rick is about ten years older than Daryl. Merle is a good big brother, but is going through PTSD and alcoholism. Will Dixon is the bad guy. And Rick does not start out as the best person(Beasts need character development, after all), but hang in there cause he gets better.
> 
> The first chapter contains the Prologue as well as Chapter 1. I will updated once a week (most likely on Sundays), since this isn't finished yet. Also, if you comment, please be kind. Happy Readings!

_Prologue_

Aaron Raleigh stood in the butler’s pantry, staring at the missive in his hand as though it would explode at any given moment. The housekeeper, Mrs. Peletier, stepped through the doorway.

“I’m sorry, Aaron, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“No such thing, Carol,” he sighed, lowering his hand, taking eyes off the parchment for the first time, and turning to her.

“So it’s true then?” She asked, eyes darting to his hand.

“The household already buzzing, I assume.”

“Indeed it is,” she confirmed. “This is the third one this year.”

“And I’m afraid it won’t be the last.”

“Have you told him yet?” 

“I was going to wait to deliver the bad news during breakfast.”

“Well, you might as well kill two birds with one stone,” she said, sourly.

Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose; it wasn’t even nine in the morning and already he could feel a headache coming on. “What other bad news must I deliver to his lordship?”

“The past due notice that was sent to Will Dixon yesterday has mysteriously found its way back to the manor,” she said, with just a touch of sarcasm, holding out another missive that looked especially worse for the wear. 

“His lordship won’t take kindly to this,” Aaron muttered darkly, taking it from her.

“Mayhap it’ll keep his mind off of-,” she nodded to the first letter to finish her thought.

“Evicting a man is a distraction?” He asked incredulously.

“Oh Aaron, you don’t really think he’ll evict them do you?”

“I don’t think he has a choice now,” he answered sadly.

“Try to convince him to go easy on Daryl. That boy is not his father.”

“I can’t make promises, Carol, you know how his lordship can be when he’s in a mood.” He wished he could have answered her in a better way, but he wouldn’t lie and she knew it. She nodded sadly and then left Aaron alone. He put both letters in one hand and set about getting the breakfast tray for the earl ready. It was going to be a trying day, might as well get it over with.

.oOo.

_Chapter 1_

Richard Grimes sat up in his bed slowly. The pain in his leg was especially prominent this morning and he briefly wondered if it was going to rain soon. The joint always ached more in the damp weather. He was going to attempt the trek between his bed and the windows just to confirm his suspicions when he heard a knock at his door.

“Come in, Aaron,” he called and the loyal butler entered, carrying a tray.

“I do believe you have the talent to see through walls, my lord,” he said as he set the tray up on the bed.

“I don’t need such a talent when yours is obviously consistent punctuality,” Rick replied dryly. Aaron’s presence was a soothing one. He never flinched when he saw Rick, never made any indication that he was not the man he once was and Rick appreciated it more than words could say; not that he would say them even if he could. “Would you open the curtains for me? I want to see if the day is bright or dreary.”

“Of course, my lord,” he moved to do as he was asked, but continued, “I would say that it is dreary, my lord,” he pushed the curtains back to reveal a thick cloud cover and turned back to the earl, “in more ways than one, I’m afraid.” He reached into his waistcoat pocket and revealed the worst of the news first.

Rick looked from the paper in his butler’s hand to the man’s face and immediately knew what it would contain. “I imagine it is from Lady Lori?”

“Her father, my lord.”

“Which man has she decided to take to church instead?” He asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

“I have not read it, my lord.”

“But the gossip?”

“They are saying Lord Walsh, my lord,” Aaron said apologetically. 

“And that comes as no surprise,” Rick said, ignoring his food and moving to get out of bed. But before his mangled legs could reach the floor, he saw the look on Aaron’s face. 

“What else could there possibly be?”

“It seems the notice that was sent to Will Dixon yesterday has been… returned to us.”

“Oh?” 

Aaron pulled the second letter out and handed both of them to the earl.

Rick held them both in his hand and resisted the urge to rip them to pieces. Maybe it was really because Lori’s refusal hurt more than he wanted to admit. Maybe it because his leg was especially bothersome this morning and the pain always pulled him to that black place within his soul. Whatever it was, Will Dixon was perfectly placed to take the brunt of his ire.

“Send Eric in and ready the carriage,” he said, his voice as cold as ice. “I would you accompany me the Dixon house this morning. I won’t have that rat bastard on my property a moment longer.”

Aaron had no choice but to bow, murmur, “As you wish, my lord,” and leave to do as he was told. But he made sure to stop at Eric’s room first and prepare him with reassuring words and soft kisses before he sent the valet he loved alone into the lion’s den.

An hour later, Rick and Aaron were in the carriage heading to Will Dixon’s hovel on the outskirts of the earl’s property, near the woods. Rick was still seeing red, made worse by every shock of pain that jolted through his leg when the carriage went over a bump in the road. Which was very often. He knew the scowl on his face made him look even more menacing but he couldn’t remove it, no matter how hard he tried; he stared out the window so that Aaron would not have to continue to look at his ruined face. His loyal butler, nor any of the other household staff commented on his appearance but he’d caught their surreptitious glances since he came home from the war nonetheless.

Rick was the Earl of Kent and a decorated war hero, soldier under the celebrated Duke of Wellington. Rick was present at the Battle of Waterloo, where his entire existence was drastically changed in the course of a day. The regiment he was commanding was under cannon fire when Rick was thrown from his horse. Shrapnel cut into his face and his poor horse stomped, first on his right hand, then on his left knee. The in-field surgeon was a hack who was barely out of university and not only did he forget to set Rick’s hand, he barely managed to keep his knee from festering. He did very little to actually repair the joint and when Rick was finally able to walk again, it was with a tremendous amount of pain and limited mobility. When he returned home, to the real world, it was with a shiny medal, several scars on his face that ran from his forehead to his neck, a misshapen hand, and an ever present cane to help him access his own godforsaken house. 

At first he tried to assimilate back into London society, as was expected of someone of his rank. But all too soon, it became too much to bear. Every time he entered a room, the entire party would wince at the sight of his face. He couldn’t dance, so the single members tended to stay away from him, and the gossip ran wild about how the war had changed him from a genial, handsome, noble bachelor to a hideous beast of man who wore a permanent scowl. So he retreated back to Kent, back to the manor and attempted to court a prospective spouse by letter alone. But it was too late. All of London knew his nature by now and none of the noble bachelors or bachelorettes could be persuaded to marry him. Lori’s rejection was just the most recent. He’d already been refused by Lord Monroe’s son, Spencer, and Lord Harrison’s daughter, Andrea. It was exhausting and frustrating. Rick had always wanted children, and if anything, his experience in the war only increased that desire. He wanted joy back in his life but it seemed the universe was determined to thwart him at every turn. This latest rejection disheartened him greatly and he wondered if maybe he needed to set his sights lower to get what he wanted. He cared not about the sex of his future spouse, only that they bear him children.

Another bump in the road cause him to grind his teeth together to stop the growl of pain from escaping his throat. But Aaron noticed anyway.

“We’re almost there, my lord,” he reassured him.

“What do you know about Dixon?” He asked to distract himself from the pain.

“Other than the fact that he’s always late on his rent?” Aaron asked sarcastically and Rick gave him a wry smile. “I know he spends more time in the village pub than out, so that’s most likely where all of his money goes. He has two grown sons that still live with him; as I understand it, they’ve nowhere to go and no prospects. Mrs. Peletier is particularly attached to the youngest son.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met him.”

“Daryl is not like his father or older brother,” Aaron admitted. 

“How old his he?”

“I’m not sure, my lord. I know he’s much younger than Merle.”

“His brother,” Rick stated to confirm.

“Yes, my lord,” Aaron answered. “I would hazard a guess that Daryl is around five and twenty.”

Rick only nodded in reply. He’d seen the youngest Dixon from a distance once or twice, usually emerging from the woods with some dead carcass draped over his shoulders. “He hunts?” Rick asked.

“From what I understand, my lord, it’s the only way they eat.” What Aaron didn’t want to say was that Carol had told him many times that Daryl would hunt, bring home the meat and clean it, only to have his father and brother eat every bite and leave him with nothing. Aaron lost count over the years the number of times that Carol had fed the boy directly from the kitchen and it would be his first meal in days. But Rick read the hesitancy in his butler.

“What are you not telling me, Aaron?”

“I believe life is particularly difficult for Daryl, my lord,” was all he would say.

Rick was going to reply but the carriage stopped abruptly and he cursed at the sudden pain instead. 

“We’re here, my lord,” Aaron said. He exited first and then helped Rick from the carriage. The little house that stood before Rick could barely warrant the name. He allowed his tenants to do what they wished to their houses, charging only for the rent of the land they sat on, but it was obvious Dixon did not care for his residence. It was barely more than a shack, the paint was chipping away in huge chunks to reveal the wood underneath, the door was barely hanging on its hinges, and the ground around the structure was overgrown with vines and weeds. It was hard for Rick to navigate the uneven ground but he finally made it to the door and knocked forcefully.

“Dixon!” He called. There was no answer. He pounded on the door. “Dixon!” He yelled it this time. Finally the door opened to reveal a dirty, bleary eyed, short man. His hair was matted from missing one too many washes and he stank of whiskey.

“What?” He screamed as soon as he opened the door.

Rick raised a critical eyebrow, “That how you greet your landlord, Dixon?”

“Oh,” Will’s eyes widened as he finally seemed to wake up, “M s-s-sorry, m’lord.”

“You seem to think you can return my notices without actually paying the rent that is owed.”

“Well, ya see, m’lord, it’s uh, been a hard month, and uh-”

“I care not for your excuses,” Rick interrupted, “you’ve been late one too many times. You’ve tried my generosity and my patience for the last time. You have till week’s end to vacate the premises or I will have you forcibly removed.”

“B-b-but I got two sons!”

“That means nothing to me,” Rick shrugged. “You are no longer welcome on my property.”

“Wait!” An unexpected voice from Rick’s right called out. He turned and saw Will Dixon’s younger son emerging from the woods, carrying a string of dead squirrels in one hand and a well used bow in the other. At the sight of Rick standing in his front door, Daryl Dixon picked up his pace and jogged to the earl, slowing down only to lean over in an awkward bow.

“M’lord,” he panted. “What can we do for you?” He was more polite than his father and slightly better spoken, but Rick barely heard the words coming out of his mouth. Daryl was beautiful. A far cry from the smaller man standing before him, Rick had a fleeting thought that maybe Daryl wasn’t actually Will Dixon’s son and then another thought that he didn’t give a damn. His light brown hair was just long enough that it brushed the very tops of his eye lashes, but it couldn’t hide the brilliant blue color of his eyes. His skin was tanned from being outdoors and his loose shirt did nothing to hide his broad shoulders and strong arms. He was the most beautiful man Rick had ever laid eyes on and a strong longing hit him like a punch in the gut. Rick couldn’t speak so Daryl did instead.

“I know we’re late on the rent, m’lord, but mayhap if we can speak,” his eyes flicked to Will, “privately-”

“Shut yer fuckin’ mouth,” Will spat and Daryl visibly flinched at the man’s words.

Rick was intrigued at what Daryl wanted to say and finally found his voice. “I actually came to evict you, since your father deigned to send the late notice back to me, but perhaps we could speak, if you have anything to offer for the debt.”

“Got no money to offer you, m’lord,” Daryl began but the plea was clear in his eyes, “but I can work for you to pay off the debt. Please don’t throw us out. I’ll do anything.”

And at his words, unbidden images swam across Rick’s mind: Daryl on his knees, his lips around Rick’s cock. Daryl naked in his bed, on all fours, waiting for Rick to do whatever he wanted. Daryl in a church, taking Rick’s name and solving all of his problems in one fell swoop.

Rick tilted his head, studying the younger man, wondering just how far “anything” went in his mind. “Anything, you say?”

“Yes, m’lord, just please don’t evict us.”

“I will forgive the debt and allow your family to retain the residence indefinitely for only one thing in return.”

“Just name it,” Daryl pleaded desperately.

“Your hand in marriage,” Rick answered. Whatever Daryl had been expecting, it definitely wasn’t that. His jaw dropped and his breath left him in huff of surprise. Rick heard Aaron gasp behind him and Will Dixon was turning more red faced by the second, but Rick’s main focus was on Daryl. After a moment he closed his mouth and took a deep breath.

“Done,” he breathed out.

“No!” Will screamed and Rick turned to him and narrowed his eyes in disdain. “I-I-I need ‘em...here,” Will stammered.

“So he can do all of your work for you?” Rick surmised. “You have your house, rent free for the rest of your life. I care not that you can’t stop drinking long enough to save your money to buy food. I also believe he has several squirrels that look as though they could feed you for the day.” He turned back to his new fiance. “Gather whatever you wish to bring with you to the manor. We will wait for you in the carriage.” But Daryl didn’t move. “I haven’t got all day,” Rick snapped at him and regretted it at once. Daryl shivered and started moving toward the house. He threw the squirrels at his father and pushed past him to get into the shack. Rick was turning away to go back to the carriage but he didn’t miss the way Daryl tried to keep from touching his father, nor the way Will Dixon stared at his son like a burdensome dog that needed a beating.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick offered his deal and Daryl accepted, but how does he feel about it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I can't thank everyone enough for all the amazing comments and kudos on this story! It took all of my willpower to not post this chapter like the next day. But I'm determined to stick to the schedule, so here we go chapter 2!
> 
> Just a little note: we learn more about Daryl's life and specifically Merle. In this story, Merle suffers from PTSD and tries to cope by using alcohol. Daryl's attitude towards this is definitely not the way to handle such a situation, but when considering the time period and the Dixon's station, this was how I imagined Daryl would feel. There is a brief mention of possible suicide in this chapter and Merle's situation will come up again in later chapters.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Daryl trembled as he walked into his house, the only place he’d ever known, and tried to come to terms with the sudden new direction his life was taking. He took a deep breath to try to calm himself and his eyes landed on his pallet in the corner. He slung his bow across his back and walked over to the only space his father would allow him to have. Under his bed of straw, he dug out his most prized possession, the one he’d hid from his father for fifteen years. It was the only thing he still had left of his mother, a dark blue baby blanket she knitted for him before he was born. He knew it was foolish, he was a grown man but he’d be damned if he left it in the house and it go up in flames when his father and brother inevitably set the place on fire. But that was all he had: the clothes on his back, the bow he made years ago, and the blanket, the gift from the only person who truly loved him. He stood, gave the place one more glance, and left. 

Will Dixon was still sputtering as the earl limped to his carriage, he wasn’t even halfway there yet. Daryl noticed the cane for the first time and wondered how badly he was hurt. Everyone knew that he’d been injured at the Battle of Waterloo, but the earl was a very private person, and no one knew much more than that. He slowed his steps so that he stayed behind the nobleman and waited patiently for him to climb into the carriage. He started to follow suit but stopped when he heard his father’s voice scream out.

“Good riddance you fuckin’ bastard! Didn’t need you anyway!”

Daryl couldn’t help the flinch that shuddered across his body when he heard Will’s voice. It was almost as bad as his actual fists raining down on him.

“Get in, Daryl,” the earl’s voice was hard but it was the first time the man had said his name and it did things to Daryl that he didn’t quite understand. But he did as he was told and shut the door behind him. He sat across from the earl, beside a man that he thought might be the butler, but he wasn’t sure.

“Aaron, tell Tyrese to take us to the church. I need to speak with Father Gabriel.”

“Of course, my lord,” and he leaned out the window to do just that.

Daryl sat ramrod straight against the seat, not wanting to let his guard down. He couldn’t understand why an earl would make an offer of marriage to him, of all people. But maybe even more puzzling was trying to understand why he accepted. If they’d been evicted, he might have been able to escape his father anyway, but he couldn’t stand to see his brother homeless. Merle barely kept it together on the best days, but without a roof over his head, he knew he very well could lose his brother to the darkness that always threatened to claim him. So that was the reason he gave himself, for accepting this enigmatic proposal from the earl. The reason he wouldn’t admit was that he was just plain curious and the only way to satisfy that curiosity was to accept. He had to admit that there was rugged, fierce, handsomeness to the earl. He was sure that before his scars, he was turning heads in London left and right, but Daryl had never seen that man. He only knew Richard Grimes, Earl of Kent as he sat in front of him, and to Daryl, the scars did not completely take away his attractive features. His dark brown hair curled around his ears and the back of his neck and his piercing blue eyes reminded Daryl of a hawk, in that they missed nothing. And just to prove the point, Rick finally opened his mouth and spoke to him.

“Is that all you brought with you?” He asked, nodding to the blanket Daryl clutched in one hand and the bow lying across his lap.

“Don’t got much,” he mumbled, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment. But Rick only hummed in reply. After that, the three men were shockingly quiet. Daryl stared out the window, but he could feel Rick’s eyes on him. He just didn’t know what to say; words had never really been his strong suit. They jostled around in the carriage until it finally hit the cobblestone road that indicated they were almost to the heart of the village. 

When they stopped outside of the village church that Daryl had never been in before, Rick opened the door. “Stay here with Aaron,” he instructed, “I’ll only be a few moments, then we will make a visit to the tailor’s.” It was a struggle for Rick to get out of the carriage and Daryl wanted to help him, but he instinctively knew the man would refuse if he tried. He slowly limped away and Daryl let out a shaky breath. 

“You’re doing fine,” Aaron said gently and Daryl’s eyes snapped to him. 

“I can’t believe this is happenin’,” he breathed out and ran his hands through his hair. 

“You didn’t have to accept,” Aaron observed, but there was no judgement in his voice, just a lack of understanding.

“I couldn’t let my brother be homeless,” he told the other man. “Merle’s barely survivin’. If he had nowhere to go, he’d probably kill himself. I’m just tryin’ to keep my brother alive.”

“Is he ill?” Aaron asked.

“I guess… in a way? I don’t really know how to explain it. Merle lost his arm in France-”

“He was a soldier?”

“Yeah, nothin’ important, though, just a body to take the bullet for another man. But they had to amputate his arm, and when he came home, he just wasn’t quite right in the head anymore. He’s seen too much, I guess. I’m just tryin’ to look after ‘em. Pa ain’t exactly… helpful,” he mumbled. 

“I am sorry for the way he spoke to you when we left.”

“Ain’t your fault,” but Daryl felt tears threaten in his eyes.

“Doesn’t change the way I feel. No father should treat their son that way.”

Daryl looked Aaron in the eye, waited a moment, and gave him a small nod. Maybe this match wouldn’t be so bad. He’d met Aaron once or twice in passing when he’d been shoveling the food Carol had given him into his mouth as fast as he could. But now he could see that Aaron might actually be a friend to him, someone he could talk to, even just a little bit. And Carol lived in the manor, so he would see her on a more regular basis. 

“Do you know why he made the offer in the first place?” Daryl felt brave enough to ask. Aaron bit his lip and he looked hesitant.

“Something you should know about his lordship…much like your brother, his war was not an easy one. They were able to save his leg, but it puts him in a considerable amount of pain, every day. His right hand will never be the same either, they forgot to set it in the field. He had to teach himself to write with his left hand once he came home.”

“Those doctors really don’t know what the hell they’re doing do they?”

“No, they definitely do not,” Aaron agreed before he continued. “You can easily see his scars. The earl is...bitter, for lack of a better word. He came home, hoping to find peace with a spouse and make a family but every match he’s attempted has been refused. Some outright. Some waited until just days before the wedding to back out of the match. All of them were sons or daughters of men of rank. I think he’s hoping you won’t…be able to refuse.”

Daryl considered the butler’s words for a minute. Everything he said confirmed what Daryl guessed and enlightened him a little bit more about his future husband. It also told Daryl where he stood in this arrangement; he was a replacement, nothing more than a means to an end. He wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about that. ”You must know him well,” he finally said.

“I’ve been serving his lordship since I was very young. We grew up together.” Aaron’s mouth turned down in a frown, “I hate seeing him so unhappy.”

Daryl didn’t know what to say to that but he was spared when the carriage door opened again and Rick tried to climb back inside. Aaron offered him a hand, which he took, and helped the master to his seat. 

“You and I will be wed Friday morning,” Rick said without preamble. “A small ceremony only.” Daryl could only nod. “I must say I do not exactly care for your father to be there, but he is your father-”

“I don’t want him there,” Daryl interrupted him.

“Very well,” Rick agreed, tapped the roof of the carriage with his cane and they jolted forward. “Is there anyone you wish to invite?”

“I...I'll try to tell my brother, but...I don’t know if he’ll come.”

Rick accepted that answer with no further questions and silence reigned once more. They traveled for only a few minutes when the carriage stopped again.

“Aaron, if you please,” Rick prompted. The butler jumped out, and offered his hand to Daryl first who, after only a moment’s hesitation, took it and alighted from the carriage. Aaron offered his hand to Rick next, who got out much more slowly. “We may need your help,” he said to the butler. “Both of you, follow me.” They did as they were told, Daryl behind Rick, Aaron just a step behind Daryl. Rick led the way into the tailor’s where they were immediately descended upon by a group of old ladies who measured every inch of Daryl before telling Rick that his new wardrobe would be delivered on Thursday. Then they piled in the carriage and trundled back to the manor, Daryl’s head swimming from the all the changes he suddenly had to adjust to in his life.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone who has commented! I've tried to respond to all of them, but life with a toddler has been interesting this week. Please know that I see all of them and they are greatly appreciated! Knowing that people are enjoying this story is more encouraging than I can say.
> 
> This chapter is a _gentle_ reminder that Rick is still our beast and will still show some beast-like behavior.

Rick saw the distress hiding in Daryl’s eyes while they were at the tailor’s but he couldn’t do anything about it at the time. As he sat in the carriage, watching his fiance from his seat, he wondered what he would do about it when he could. All of this had to be overwhelming for Daryl, but there was a part of him that just _didn’t care_. And then he felt like a complete ass for feeling that way. He and Daryl would be married at week’s end. Daryl would be his _husband_ and even though Rick had offered the proposal with strings attached, he knew that it was his responsibility to take care of him. And part of that was making sure he was prepared for the world he was about to enter. When the carriage pulled up to the front door of the manor, Aaron jumped out and offered his hand to Daryl first. Once he was out of the way, he offered his hand to Rick and helped him out. 

“We’ll take lunch in the breakfast room,” he told Aaron.

“Very good, my lord. Would you like for me to let you know when the food is ready?”

“No, we can sit in there and wait. If we won’t be a bother to you?”

“Of course not, my lord. I will bring the meal as soon as Miss Olivia has finished the preparations.”

“Thank you, Aaron,” Rick gave a small smile. He started walking into the manor, when he realized he didn’t hear footsteps behind him. He turned and saw Daryl gaping, open mouthed, and looking up, as far back as his neck would allow. Rick felt something in his heart that made it skip a beat. There was an innocence in Daryl’s face as he looked at the grand house. Rick could see that he was taking in all the details that were missed at a distance. He could appreciate it, because he wasn’t immune to its grandeur. And that made Rick frown. When was the last time he appreciated what he had, the house his forefathers built, the blessing of being born into a title that all but guaranteed a comfortable life? He couldn’t remember exactly, but it had to be before the war, before his wounds jaded him to the beauty of this world. But still, he couldn’t remember being grateful even then. And here was Daryl, a man who grew up with nothing, who suddenly had so much more than he was used to; his reaction was….endearing. Rick had a fleeting thought of taking him to London; the look on his face would be worth having to endure the stuffiness of society. But first things first, he sighed to himself.

“Daryl,” he intoned softly and the younger man jumped as though Rick had yelled. His eyes snapped back to Rick’s. “Let’s go and eat and then we can take a tour of the house. Inside and outside, I promise,” he held his hand out and to his utter surprise, Daryl timidly took it. 

Rick led him through the house at his slow speed, but Daryl never showed impatience and Rick was grateful for it. He took him to the breakfast dining room, a room in the house Rick rarely used, since there was no one else to eat with. He preferred breakfast in bed and lunch in his study. He suffered through dinner in the main dining room because it was proper, but he always hated every moment of it. But now he had someone he could share it with and that brought a smile to his ruined face. 

When they reached the small dining room, Rick finally let go of Daryl’s hand and maneuvered himself at the head of the table.

“Sit down,” he instructed, patting the spot on the table to his right. “Lunch will be delivered when they’ve finished with it. I didn’t exactly give them much notice on when I would be back and they definitely didn’t expect me to have a guest,” he said but he wasn’t sure Daryl even heard him. He was looking around the room in every direction, taking it in like he had the facade of the house. His mouth was opened as wide as his eyes and Rick fell silent, letting him just drink it all in. He thought Daryl would be occupied, just looking around, for a long time. So he was a little surprised when his betrothed spoke.

“I don’t belong here,” his voice was soft and sad and it might as well have been a bullet ripping through Rick’s heart.

He tried to keep his tone neutral as he replied. “Are you saying you wish to break our arrangement already?”

“No, but I don’t know how to live,” he waved his hand around the whole room, “like this.”

Rick’s sigh of relief was relatively silent and he felt the corner of his mouth turn up, “Then I’d say you are a breath of fresh air.”

“I’ll mess up,” he whispered fearfully and Rick wondered if Daryl’s mistakes were the excuse Will Dixon used to justify the treatment of his son.

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t,” he said slowly, “I’ll help you learn from the mistake. I’m not above taking you through everything step by step. I would never put you in a situation you weren’t ready for. However, if I have it my way, we will never be in those situations. I prefer to stay away from society.”

Daryl’s brow furrowed at those words and Rick guessed that he either didn’t fully understand what he meant or he was trying to understand Rick’s admittance of preferring solitude. When he looked up and saw Rick studying him, he seemed to curl in on himself, like he could hide from Rick, just by making himself smaller. Luckily, the table was not very large and Rick was able to reach over and put his fingers under Daryl’s chin without having to move. He pulled Daryl’s head up and forced eye contact.

“You will be married to an earl in five days. No more slouching.” Rick saw Daryl’s shoulders relax a little, but it wasn’t enough. “Sit up straight,” he instructed, “with your shoulders back. Head up. You’ve nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Ain’t ashamed of nothin’,” Daryl spat back, with fire in his eyes.

“Then act like it,” Rick challenged. Daryl sat up straighter, just as Rick told him to, his back ramrod straight, his shoulders back, and his chin held up almost defiantly. Rick was going to praise him, despite his attitude, but Aaron walked in carrying a tray laden with lunch. Rick sat back in his chair while Aaron set the table with the plates, glasses, and silverware. When the butler moved to set the placings in front of Daryl, the younger man tried to help, holding his hands out to grab whatever Aaron was trying to set down. But Aaron effectively avoided his hands and Rick decided to correct him. “Put your hands in your lap. He doesn’t need your help,” Rick told him harshly and Daryl’s hands dropped like a puppet whose strings had been cut. “It’s his job,” Rick felt compelled to explain.

“It’s unnecessary,” Daryl countered.

“It’s how things are done. I suggest you get used to it,” his tone made it clear that the subject was closed and he knew his eyes were just as harsh. Daryl grew silent and looked away and Rick felt uncertainty squirm in his gut. He knew he shouldn’t be so sharp with his new fiancé, but it was like it was an involuntary reaction that he couldn’t control. 

Aaron served the food and Rick talked Daryl through which utensils to use for which course. His tone was clinical, completely void of emotion, and Daryl never responded verbally. He did follow every single one of Rick’s directions to the letter, all the while keeping his posture perfect. He was a fast learner and Rick intended to say so. But every time he opened his mouth, a new instruction came out instead of the praise he intended to say. 

With all the lessons in proper etiquette, lunch lasted twice as long as usual and Rick was exhausted by the end of it. It had already been a long day and his leg was really letting him know it. It took all of his will power to not cry out as he and Daryl climbed the stairs to the second floor after lunch. He led Daryl to the east wing of the manor, to a room as far away as possible from Rick’s west wing suite. The engagement would only last four more days, but Rick was reluctant to invite temptation any closer. And Daryl was so tempting. But he was determined to continue as properly as possible. He showed Daryl his temporary room, with a promise that he would see him at dinner and he left. He asked Aaron to bring a warm compress to him as he limped down the long hallway to the west wing, hoping it would ease his pain. 

It wasn’t until he’d stripped out of his clothes, wearing only a nightshirt, and lying in bed, that he remembered that he promised to show Daryl the house and grounds after lunch. He closed his eyes and pinched his nose, disappointed in himself for breaking his word. But, he consoled himself, there was time. He would make it up to Daryl. After some rest and warmth on his knee he would be better, more gentle with his intended. He could fix this. He could.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is probably one of my favorite chapters in this story so far. We finally meet Merle! I'd like to say again that Merle does use alcohol to self medicate and I do not condone this behavior in any way and Daryl does the best he can.  
Also, please remember that I am not British, but I do love an English tea, so I hope I did Daryl's tea lesson justice. If I completely missed something, please let me know.

Daryl stood in his “temporary” room, not knowing what to do with himself. He’d never had a room of his own before. Hell, he’d never had a bed before. Not that he could remember at least; he assumed he had a cradle of some sort when he was a baby, but he couldn’t confirm that. To make it even more intimidating, everything was so _clean_. He’d waded in the creek just last night but it wasn’t like getting clean was the actual goal and he felt grimy next to the pristine bed and other furniture. Everything was happening so fast, he couldn’t process it. He’d hoped that seeing the house and the grounds would help it all sink in a little bit, but Rick didn’t mention it again and Daryl wasn’t going to remind him. He wasn’t exactly sure that he wanted to spend more time with the earl than he had to. Lunch wasn’t exactly...pleasant. He knew he had a lot to learn, but the way Rick spoke to him made him feel like a child. He didn’t yell, like Will did, but it still wasn’t a good feeling. 

He was standing in the middle of the room, trying to figure out what to do next, when a knock at the door startled him from his thoughts. It did, however, take a second knock for him to finally move his feet. He opened the door to find Aaron holding his bow and his baby blanket.

“You left these in the carriage, sir, I thought you might like to have them with you,” he said, holding the items out.

“Thanks,” Daryl answered as he took them, but he was just going through the motions. His head wouldn’t stop spinning.

“Daryl, are you alright?” Aaron asked, much less formal and Daryl appreciated that. “You were awfully quiet during the meal.”

“I...I um....just,” Daryl couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe. It was all too much and Rick didn’t care. He was giving up his whole life, asked to become something he knew nothing about, and was expected to just take it all in stride. He didn’t even realize that he was gasping for breath until Aaron stepped forward and gently took the items back and sat them down on the bed. 

“Come with me,” he put his hand on Daryl’s elbow and led him from the room. Everything was a blur as Aaron rushed him through the hall, down the stairs and into a part of the manor he hadn’t yet seen. Daryl followed him down another set of stairs and suddenly realized his surroundings were bare, much more simplistic than the rest of the house.

“Miss Olivia, have you seen Carol?” Aaron asked but Daryl couldn’t really focus. He did catch the name “Carol” and he hoped it was the Carol he knew and not just another stranger. Aaron led him down another bare hall and into a room with a desk and two chairs. Behind the small desk sat an older woman that he’d known since he was a child and he wanted to cry out in relief at the familiar face.

“I’m sorry to burst in on you like this, Mrs. Peletier,” Aaron addressed her, “but I believe Mr. Dixon is in need of a friend.”

“Thank you, Aaron,” she stood, Aaron let go of him and left, and Carol strode around the desk and wrapped him up in her arms. He wanted to resist the contact at first but it was too compelling and he felt himself melt against her.

“It’s alright,” she soothed. “It’s going to be alright.” 

Daryl took a shuddering breath and let Carol comfort him. Carol had been helping to take care of him ever since his mother died. He’d sneak through the woods to the back of the manor, the part no one in society was supposed to see, and she’d have a bowl of stew ready for him, or bread, anything that was left over from the earl’s meal. As he thought about it, he realized he’d been eating Rick’s table scraps for most of his life. 

But Carol pulled away and he forced himself back in the present.

“How about a nice cup of tea?” She asked. He nodded, but he was suddenly nervous. They didn’t exactly keep tea in his house. She must have seen the nervous flash in his eyes. “Have you ever had tea, Daryl?” He shook his head, but looked at his shuffling feet the entire time. She patted his cheek. “You just sit down over there and I’ll come back and we’ll have ourselves a lesson on tea.” She pointed to the chair in front of her desk and he did as he was told. He waited several minutes, his mind wandering to his future husband. 

He wasn’t sure if this match was a good idea, but he reminded himself that he didn’t have much choice. Merle deserved a home and this was the way to make sure he had a roof over his head. Maybe he could convince the earl to let his brother live somewhere nicer, away from their father. He frowned as he thought about Merle, he didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye that morning. 

Carol came back through the door, interrupting his thoughts. She was carrying a large silver tray that looked completely full. A lesson on afternoon tea was not his idea of fun but it did help take his mind off of his future husband’s mood swings.

“It’s only a cream tea, I’m afraid. Olivia was not exactly prepared for a high tea.”

“It’s fine,” he answered automatically, because really, what was the difference?

Well apparently, there was a big difference and Carol immediately went into a long explanation about when High Tea was supposed to be served versus when a cream tea was served. According to her, they weren’t doing it at the correct time, but he really couldn’t care less. 

He was too concerned with holding the teapot correctly, since it would be his responsibility to serve the earl when the time came. His hands shook and he was terrified that he would spill the tea everywhere.

“Just take your time,” she said gently. “You can place your other hand at the top of the lid, if it makes you feel more comfortable.” He did as she suggested and it helped a little bit. He managed to pour the tea into both of their teacups, spilling only a little bit into his own saucer. “Now the sugar,” she instructed. “The earl usually indulges in three spoonfuls of sugar for his tea, but that’s too sweet for me. I only take two with my tea. You can start out with one right now and add to it so that you know for the next time. Be careful to not fill the spoon too full, or you’ll spill,” she added as he reached for the sugar bowl. He picked up the little spoon and knew he could probably bend it in half with one hand. He felt clumsy trying to use such a small utensil, but he managed to put two spoonfuls of sugar in Carol’s tea with minimal splashing. Then he put one in his own tea. “Now you pour the milk. I’ll tell you when to stop. Pour slowly and you’ll do fine.” He poured the milk, trying to keep one eye on his aim and the other on Carol. “You can stop now,” she said and he immediately pulled back. He poured a little in his own cup and went to grab the spoon to stir. “This is the important part,” she stopped him and took several minutes teaching him how to stir his tea without making a sound. He was extra careful and took his time and then finally, finally, he was able to drink his damn tea. It wasn’t too hot so he took a timid sip. The flavor was different and he wasn’t sure he liked it. He must have had a look on his face that said so because Carol smiled at him. “Try another scoop of sugar.” He did and stirred it carefully. The second sip was better than the first and he noticed that his hands didn’t shake quite so much anymore. Carol told him to try a scone, that some people spread the cream first and the jam second. It was how the earl ate his scones, she told him. Whenever she told him about how Rick took his tea and scones, Daryl paid careful attention to it. And then he blinked and furrowed his brow because he didn’t know why he even bothered. The man couldn’t be troubled to remember a simple promise to show Daryl his new home, why should he be bothered to remember how the man took his tea?

Carol offered him another cup but he declined. Instead he decided to ask a question that was becoming increasingly important to him.

“Mrs. Peletier?” He started.

“You stop that, it’s Carol, especially when we’re alone.”

He ducked his head a bit and nodded. “Carol, do you think...it would be alright...if I went to see my brother?”

She didn’t answer right away, but after considering for a moment, she asked her own question. “Did the earl have any plans with you before dinner?”

Daryl couldn’t look up at her, so he spoke to his knees. “He said that...after lunch...he would show me the house and everythin’ but...I think-I think...he forgot,” he finished quietly. He still didn’t look up, but he heard Carol’s huff and he thought it sounded like frustration.

“Well...I don’t see what it could hurt. I would suggest you take a horse, walking would be too slow and I’m sure his lordship will want you back by dinner.”

Daryl nodded and she stood up and beckoned for him to follow. They found Aaron and he led Daryl to the stables where he introduced him to a meek teenage boy by the name of Patrick. It had been a while since Daryl had been on a horse so Patrick recommended Buttons. Daryl noticed that the boy became more animated as he talked about the horse, how he had a gentle gait and followed commands better than any of the other horses in the stables, except his lordship’s, of course. He helped Daryl saddle and bridle Buttons and soon Daryl was off, cantering towards the little house he so willingly left just earlier that day. 

He hobbled the horse in the tree line and observed the house before approaching. He stayed in the shadows until he saw Will exit the front door and stumble down the road in the direction of the pub. He just hoped Merle had come back home. 

He walked to the open door on silent feet and there he was, passed out on Daryl’s pallet. Daryl walked over to him and sat down. He put the back of his hand against Merle’s forehead, an old habit from the days of the wound on his arm being infected, but his body seemed fine. He didn’t stir at Daryl’s touch, so he assumed it was an alcohol induced sleep. 

He looked around the one room shack and saw the squirrels he’d caught early that morning just lying on the table, going to waste. He jumped up and started preparing them, then cooking them, all the while keeping an eye on his brother. It wasn’t as time consuming as he’d hoped and his mind wandered back to the manor. He wondered if he could convince Rick to move his brother closer. He hated the thought of leaving Merle like this day in and day out. He knew that drinking his memory into oblivion was not how Merle should exorcise his demons, but he also knew that it wasn’t his place to tell his brother what to do. It wouldn’t do any good, in the first place; Merle would just tell him he could take care of himself. But there was also a part of Daryl that knew he could never understand what his brother went through in the war and therefore, it could not be his place to tell Merle how to deal with his pain.

When the meat was cooked, Merle finally seemed to regain consciousness. Daryl brought a plate to him, as well as some water.

“Hey, baby brother,” Merle slurred.

“You should eat,” Daryl said by way of reply. He held the plate of squirrel in front of Merle’s eyes so there was no way to miss it. His brother took it, and set it in his lap, before he started eating the meat one-handed. 

“What’re you gonna eat?” Merle had the decency to ask.

“I have to tell you something,” Daryl stated, not looking at him.

“This about you gettin’ married?”

“Pa told you then?” Daryl sighed.

“He was rantin’ and ravin’ bout you abandonin’ us fer the cripple in tha manor house. Think I heard him say the word wedding at some point. Passed out and I swear he’s still talkin’. Bastard does it jus’ ta hear his own voice.” He shoveled the meat into his mouth. Daryl felt disappointment curl in his chest. He wanted to tell Merle, it was his news to tell. He sighed again, now it was just one more thing Will Dixon had taken away from him.

“I had to do something, Merle, he was gonna evict us. Kick us outta town. He offered, I accepted.”

“You ain’t gotta explain it to me, baby brother.” Merle put his greasy hand on Daryl’s cheek; he actually slapped it against his cheek, but not enough to hurt. “You always do the right thing. Jus’ who you are.”

They sat and talked for a while. Daryl made sure that his brother ate what he could scrounge up and drank all the water that he put in front of him. He tried, yet again, to convince Merle to give up the bottle, to try to find another way to heal the pain, but he just brushed it off again.

“Don’t chyou worry bout ol’ Merle,” his words were still slurred, despite the food and water, “you jus’ take care o’ yourself, baby brother. I know you can.”

“You taught me how,” the corner of Daryl’s lips turned up in a half smile and he patted his brother on the shoulder, just before he passed out again. He hung his head, defeat settling around his shoulders like a heavy yoke. He knew that Merle would wake up and stumble to the pub again, come home, pass out, and do it all over again. But at least he had a place to come home to. He walked out of the hovel and back to his horse, realizing, too late, that it was dark and he had lost track of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stormy waters ahead folks! But next week you'll have two chapters!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok everyone, so this chapter is short and rough. Everybody remember in the movie when Belle goes to the west wing and the beast catches her and roars until she leaves? Well, this is Rick's beast moment, except that he does more than yell. There is one moment of physical abuse. I am putting the details in the end notes, just in case anyone needs a heads up before you read this.
> 
> Also, this chapter is actually from Aaron's perspective. If you've read any of my other stuff before, you've probably noticed that I'm very rigid when it comes to changing perspectives and it can sometimes make writing a little difficult. So I'm trying to write in the perspective that feels right and not in the one that should come next in a pattern.

“Where is he?” 

Aaron jumped at Rick’s harsh voice. It was the third time the earl had barked the question at him and he still did not have a satisfactory answer. He did know, however, that he was required to answer, even if this one was no better than the last. “I’m not sure, my lord,” he couldn’t keep the fear out of his voice. “We have Tyrese and a few others looking for him.” 

Really, Daryl should have been back long ago. When he asked to go see his brother, Aaron didn’t think anything negative would come of it. He knew to be back for the evening meal, he knew the way. But supper should have been served an hour ago and while Rick became even more enraged with every passing moment, Aaron grew more concerned. He was going to share his concerns with his lordship, perhaps try to channel his anger into something a little more lenient, when they heard heavy footfalls approach the dining room. Aaron turned just in time to see Daryl enter the room and Rick stand up from his chair faster than he would have thought possible. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” Rick thundered at him. Aaron flinched again, but he noticed that Daryl simply froze. The only indication that he took note of Rick’s tone was a slight narrowing of his eyes. “I asked you a question.”

Daryl’s eyes flicked over to Aaron and the butler saw color rising in his cheeks. The tension was suddenly enough to fill the entire room, which was saying something as it was a fairly large room. 

“Didn’t realize I had to tell you every little thing I’s doing,” Daryl answered defiantly, trying to hide his embarrassment. Aaron closed his eyes, praying that things would not escalate. The whole household knew to avoid the earl when he was in a temper and if they’d been alone, Aaron would have counseled him against baiting Rick. 

Rick stalked over to him as quickly as his bad leg would allow and entered Daryl’s personal space. With the speed of a striking cobra, Rick reached his hand out and gripped Daryl’s chin hard. “You will not leave this manor without my express permission, boy.”

“I ain’t chyour boy!” Daryl spat back, pushing Rick’s hand away from his face.

Rick pulled the hand back and brought it forward. The sound of his hand connecting with Daryl’s cheek cracked throughout the room and Aaron couldn’t hold back his gasp of shock. Daryl’s hand instinctively came up to cover his cheek. He looked at Rick then at Aaron, who could see the young man’s tears from all the way across the room. Silence hung frozen around them, but Aaron thought that _maybe_ the earl was opening his mouth to say something. But it was too late. Daryl jerked his body away from him, turned tail, and ran from the room. 

Aaron and Rick heard his frantic, terrified steps run all the way down the hall and through the entryway. They heard the front door being wrenched open and then slammed shut, at which point, Rick’s whole body spasmed. The earl seemed to come back to his senses with the slamming of that door.

“No,” Aaron heard him whisper and saw him shake his head. “No! Daryl!” And the earl took off, following his fiance’s footsteps, at a much slower pace and carrying a great deal more pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Details of the scene: Daryl is late for dinner and Rick lets his temper get the better of him. He grabs Daryl's chin in a rough way and when Daryl stands up for himself, Rick slaps him. Daryl runs away and Rick immediately feels regret.
> 
> Try not to be too angry with Rick, he'll get a chance to make amends.


	6. Chapter 6

Daryl ran as fast as his feet could carry him. Fuck the earl. Fuck their deal. Fuck the idea of marriage. And fuck exchanging one abusive man for another. He’d go get Merle and find work somewhere, somehow. He’d leave their father to rot on Rick’s property. He’d hunt, work, whatever it took to take care of his brother. But he was not going to marry a man who put him through what Will Dixon did.

So he ran. The only problem was, his eyes were so full of tears, he couldn’t really tell where he was going. He had no idea how long he’d been running when he nearly collided with a tree. He wrapped his arms around the rough trunk and sobbed. It sure as hell wasn’t dignified, but he couldn’t make himself care. The whole day had been too much and he couldn’t bear it anymore. His cheek still stung from Rick’s slap, but it was really his pride that took the brunt of it. He sunk down to the ground and leaned back against the tree, trying to calm his emotions. He wiped the tears from his face and took a breath to settle himself.

It was only then that he realized that he was deep in the woods. Alone. At night. 

As much as he’d hunted these same woods at all hours of the day, they weren’t safe to be in at night. Wolves roamed in packs, preying on anything and everything that crossed their path. And he had no weapon. His head fell back against the tree as he thought about his bow and blanket still in the manor. But that was the least of his worries right now. He wasn’t altogether sure where he was. In his frantic escape from the manor, he hadn’t been paying attention to where he was going, but he did know that he was nowhere near the trail he usually took. He felt shame and embarrassment slither in his chest, but he tried to push it to the side so that he could get his bearings, get out of the forest, and go home.

But as he stood up, he heard a low growl. His heart started pounding as another growl joined the first. Moonlight filtered through the trees and he saw a large grey wolf to his left, a slightly smaller one to his right, and the largest wolf he’d ever seen approaching him head on. He was surrounded. He was defenseless. He was going to die this night. 

The wolves growled even louder, smelling fresh blood, and slowly stalked toward him.

“Daryl!” The voice that was his damnation and his salvation echoed around the trees.

“Rick!” He answered, his voice filled with panic. Hooves thundered on the ground and the wolves paused in their pursuit. “Rick!” He called out again and Rick charged into the middle of the three beasts, riding Buttons. The horse panicked at the sudden presence of the predators and reared up. The wolves attention quickly moved from Daryl to the horse. They crouched and moved closer to attack. Daryl saw Rick barely stay in the saddle as Buttons’ front feet met the ground, just before he kicked out with his back legs. The sudden change in direction was too much and Rick flew over Buttons’ head, landing mere inches away from the smallest wolf. The wolf sensed weakness and moved in for the kill.

“No!” Daryl bolted forward and kicked the beast in the ribs, eliciting a yelp from it. Buttons managed to kick the other two and the wolves gave up and made a hasty retreat. 

Daryl rushed over to the panicking horse, grabbed his reins and calmed him down. When he was sure the animal wouldn’t bolt he went over to Rick, who wasn’t moving.

“No, please don’t be dead, please.” Daryl didn’t know where the words came from, didn’t know why he cared so much. Rick had just hit him, ran him from the manor. And here he was, trying to take care of him, beg the God he didn’t believe in for him to still be breathing. He kneeled next to the prone man and let out a shaky gasp when he saw his chest rise and fall. “Rick,” it felt strange, now, to use the earl’s name. But he just had, when he was in need of help. So it shouldn’t fall from his lips in a whisper. But it did.  
He pushed the wayward curls away from the earl’s face and the man finally stirred a bit. 

“Rick, please.”

“Daryl?”

“I’m here,” Daryl assured him.

“Don’t go,” Rick managed to breathe out before he lost consciousness again.

Looking back, Daryl wasn’t sure how he did it. But somehow, he managed to lift Rick up on Buttons, secure him in the saddle, and walk horse and man back to the manor. It was slow going; Rick slipped in and out of awareness and Daryl stopped constantly to check that he was still breathing. 

When they finally made it back to the house, the whole staff was in a panic. It didn’t help when they all saw how unresponsive the earl was. Aaron instructed Patrick to fetch the village doctor and then he and Daryl eased Rick from Buttons and carried him to his room.

Aaron brought Daryl a tray of food, but he couldn’t touch it. The doctor came and went, saying that he’d seen people who were much worse off after being thrown from a horse. He babbled on about Rick being in shock and that he would wake up when he was ready.

Daryl sat by his bed all night, barely moving from his position, elbows on his knees, mouth resting against intertwined fingers. He watched the rise and fall of Rick’s chest all night, his mind running in circles. But try as he might he could not figure out why he cared so damn much. After swearing that he would never return to the manor, never marry the man within, he was having an awful hard time leaving his side when he was so hurt. Especially since he’d been injured trying to rectify the hurt he’d caused Daryl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much everyone for all the wonderful comments and kudos! I hope seeing Rick lose his temper wasn't too horrible. Next Sunday, the boys have a conversation so stay tuned!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You should learn to control your temper."

When Rick finally woke up, sunlight was streaming in through the windows. He was lying in his bed, propped up by a mountain of pillows. He looked around and saw Daryl sitting in the chair that normally stayed in front of a window. The younger man was sound asleep, sitting straight up, his head leaned back against the chair. His hand was dangled over the arm rest and his mouth was wide open in a rather undignified way. He gave a soft snore and Rick frowned, wondering why he was there. He moved to sit up, to tell Daryl that it wasn’t proper for him to be in his room, but pain shot through his back, neck, and head and sent him gasping back into the pillows.

Maybe it was the shock of pain that cleared his head, maybe it was Daryl’s deep blue eyes floating above him as he tried to soothe Rick through the worst of it. Whatever the cause, the events of the previous night came flooding back to Rick, hurting almost as much as the physical pain. Everything flashed in his mind’s eye, from fear and righteous anger at Daryl’s tardiness to dinner, to the slap he delivered to his fiance, to chasing after him only to be thrown from his horse in the middle of a pack of wolves. 

“Easy,” Daryl was saying to him softly, “Easy.”

“What are you doing in here?” Rick asked, gruff demeanor a byproduct of the pain. At least, that’s what he told himself. Regardless of the motive, he saw Daryl stiffen at the tone in his voice.

“Doctor said it was best to not leave you alone. Horse threw you pretty hard.”

“Yes I know exactly how I ended up here,” Rick bit back and dammit he didn’t intend to sound so horrible, but the words tumbled out before he could stop them. Daryl didn’t reply. He turned away and for a heartstopping moment, Rick thought he was leaving him again. As awful as he couldn’t help being, he also could not stand the thought of Daryl leaving him again. He couldn’t handle another rejection, especially from the man in front of him, though he couldn’t exactly say why. But when Daryl turned back to him, holding a glass of water in his hand, he gave a shaky exhale of relief. That turned into indignation when he realized the younger man meant to hold the glass to his lips for him to drink, like he was some kind of invalid. 

Rick raised his hand to grab the glass but Daryl pulled the glass back. “No, don’t do that,” he muttered. Rick tried to follow the glass and sit up again, only to be met with more pain and Daryl’s hand on his shoulder, pushing him gently back to the pillows.

“That hurts!” Rick protested, like the pain was actually Daryl’s fault.

“If you’d lay down it wouldn’t hurt as much.”

“If you had not run away, this would not have happened,” Rick retorted, accusing Daryl to make himself feel better. 

“If you hadn’t hit me, I wouldn’ta run away.” 

At that Rick looked for an excuse, any excuse to defend himself with. “Well, you shouldn’t have been late for dinner.”

“And you should learn to control your temper,” Daryl shot back and Rick felt his insides freeze. He had let his temper get the better of him last night and it led him to do that which he’d always sworn he never would. The fact that he suspected that Will Dixon had laid a hand on his son many times in the past made his actions even more appalling. 

Daryl was right and Rick was wrong, and Heaven above that left such a bitter taste in his mouth.

“You did save my life though,” Daryl said, pulling him from his thoughts. “So, you know,” he wasn’t looking at Rick, “thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” Rick said, brow furrowing. It was an automatic response, because it stood to reason that if he hadn’t lost his temper, then Daryl wouldn’t have run, and therefore would not have been surrounded by a pack of wolves. Rick would not have jumped on a horse to go after him and wouldn’t have been thrown from said horse. So as his mind came full circle, he realized: it really was all his fault.

“Will you drink the water now?” Daryl sounded a little exasperated. “Doc said it’s important.” Rick nodded and felt shame creep across his face in the form of the blush as Daryl took care of him, holding the glass to his lips and letting him take small sips. When he’d finished half of the glass, Daryl pulled it away and put it on the bedside table. Rick let his head sink down into the soft pillows, his gut churning. It was his fault, all his fault. He deserved this pain; and Daryl deserved better than this.

“Daryl,” he whispered, terrified and grief-stricken already, “I should not have raised my hand to you last night and for that I am eternally sorry. If you wish to break this engagement because of my actions, do so with the knowledge that there will be no repercussions. Your family may maintain residence on my property as long as they wish.” He turned his head, like the coward he was so that he couldn’t see Daryl’s face. He would spend the rest of his days miserable and alone, penance for wounding such an innocent creature. Because if anyone deserved Rick’s anger and rage, it was _not_ Daryl Dixon.

“Is that what you want? You want me to go?” Daryl asked softly and Rick was surprised at the question. He turned his head, so that he could look Daryl in the eye, but the young man had ducked his head and was looking at his knees.

“No,” he answered honestly, but couldn’t say any more.

“Then as long as you can stand come Friday, you can still take me to church,” Daryl said, glancing up quickly. “Doc said you gotta take it easy today,” changing the subject in a tone that told Rick that the discussion of their engagement was closed. 

“What else does the good doctor say?” Rick asked him with a wry smile.

“Said that he didn’t think you have any broken bones, but no horses for a while, stick to the carriage.”

“I really shouldn’t have been riding anyway,” Rick sighed and then had another thought. “Is Buttons alright?”

“Patrick said he’s a little skittish but a day in the paddock should give him time to calm down. Pretty sure Carol’s sneakin’ him carrots too. He’ll be fine.”

“Good, good,” Rick answered, his mind turning back to the night, the woods, and the wolves. They stayed silent for a long time, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Daryl just didn’t seem to have anything else to say and Rick couldn’t really make sense of his thoughts long enough to think of anything to say. A knock at the door eventually broke the silence.

“Come in, Aaron,” Rick called. The butler entered, a small smile on his lips, carrying a tray.

“Good afternoon, my lord,” Aaron answered, “Mr. Dixon,” he nodded to Daryl.

“Will you leave us, Daryl?” Rick asked, trying to keep his tone in check. “Aaron will assist me for now.”

Daryl nodded, not really knowing what to say, Rick guessed. He left the room, shutting the door softly behind him. Aaron sat the tray on the desk and helped Rick out of the bed to take care of a necessary action and then helped him settle at the desk to eat. 

“The doctor seems confident in your recovery, sir.” Aaron said to make conversation. 

“I would hate for you to have to do this all over again, Aaron,” Rick replied with a frown, the best he could do to show he was pleased with the diagnosis. Aaron had been the one who helped him recover when he returned from battle, the only one with enough patience to sit with him day in and day out as he climbed out of the trenches of anger and depression and pain, so much pain.

“I believe Mr. Dixon would have been up for the task,” Aaron hinted.

“Oh?”

“From what I understand he helped his brother recover from his own injuries after he came home from war. He seems to have as much experience as I do, my lord. In any case, he refused to leave your side last night. I don’t think he actually fell asleep until after I brought his breakfast tray this morning.”

Rick almost dropped the fork in his hands, Aaron’s words startled him so. He wasn’t sure if it was Aaron’s assurance in Daryl’s capabilities or the revelation that his fiancé did indeed stay by his side the whole night through. That spoke of Daryl’s loyalty, his willingness to stay when Rick couldn’t make him. His willingness to stay with Rick, to marry him, even after Rick gave him an out. He dropped his head in his hands as he realized that although their stations in life were vastly different, it was he who did not deserve Daryl.

“My lord? Are you alright?” Aaron asked, concerned.

“I don’t know,” Rick answered, his voice hoarse.

“Are you in pain?”

Not physically, Rick wanted to say, but he kept that to himself. He took a deep breath and raised his head. “No, I’m fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe all the traffic this has been getting, thank you so much for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! We still have a long way to go with these boys!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl opens up to a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you so much everyone for all the wonderful comments on last weeks chapter! I'm sorry I haven't responded, it hasn't been the best week. Please know that I read them all and they are greatly appreciated. I'm still blown away by all the positive feedback on this story. Unfortunately, I'm a little stuck on chapter 13 right now (anyone superstitious?) so any good vibes and positive thoughts sent my way are worth more than gold.
> 
> Secondly, this chapter is from Eric's perspective, which was so much fun to write. Hope everyone enjoys!

By Thursday, the whole household was feeling the anticipation of the wedding. Although the earl had expressly forbidden Aaron to invite any member of society, he did allow the servants to prepare a small celebration for him and his new husband when they returned from the church. 

Miss Olivia was busy with the cake and punch; Carol was ordering the maids around, making sure every inch of the house was spotless; and Aaron was overseeing all of it, on top of polishing the silver service and organizing the marriage suite. All of that meant that it was left to Eric to prepare the Earl and his betrothed. By himself.

It wasn’t that he was scared of the earl, but he was… he was terrified of the man. He knew the earl preferred Aaron’s company and for whatever reason the thought alone made his hands shake. Rick’s scars were even more menacing when he scowled, but he always scowled. Eric was a nervous talker and never could read the minute changes on the earl’s face like Aaron could. His hands always trembled around the man, causing him to drop things or take forever to fasten cuff links and buttons. It was always an ordeal to dress him but it was quite literally his job and finding another position was unthinkable. He couldn’t leave Aaron, no matter how ill tempered the earl became with him. And that was the thought that pushed him through Thursday afternoon as he set about preparing the man’s wedding clothes for the next day. 

Thankfully, the earl was still abed and silent, resting before the exciting day on the morrow. The doctor had come and gone, pronouncing him in good health. Aaron was present during the exam and laughed nearly to tears when he told Eric that when the doctor told Rick to avoid strenuous activities, coupled with a knowing glare, the earl told him in no uncertain terms that what he did with his future husband was none of the man’s business, unless he managed to get Daryl with child on the first go. Eric managed a weak chuckle but was privately terrified at finding Rick in a bad mood due to the doctor’s brash behavior. 

He was most surprised when the earl said nothing to him as he went about his duties; he just stared out the window. Eric was finished in record time, his shaking down a considerable amount, since he was left to his own devices. As he took his leave, he heard Rick mumble words of gratitude.

Eric was careful to reply, “You’re welcome, my lord,” before he bowed and left the room.

And though he wanted nothing more than to go to Aaron and let his sweetheart wrap his arms around him, he still had one other person in the house to attend to. Balancing the ewer and basin carefully in one hand, he knocked timidly on Mr Dixon’s door. But there was no answer. Thinking perhaps the man didn’t hear him knock, he tried again, harder this time and with a greeting.

“Mr. Dixon? Are you there?” The door opened and Eric saw the unfocused blue eyes of the earl’s fiancé. Aaron had already told him the man still struggled with the reality of his new situation and he wondered if that very thing was happening now. “Are you alright?” He asked.

“I-yeah… no- I don’t know,” Daryl answered him, eyes darting and still unfocused.

“May I come in? I’ve brought you fresh water, if you wished to clean up before tomorrow.” 

Daryl didn’t answer but he did open the door and stand aside so Eric could come inside. He placed the basin and ewer on the small marble topped table beside the wardrobe, which he realized was opened. 

He knew the tailor had been earlier that afternoon; Aaron oversaw the delivery of Mr. Dixon’s new clothes. Most of them had been taken to the marriage suite, but his wedding clothes were hanging in this wardrobe, revealed by the open door. 

It was a really nice suit, Eric mused. A double breasted, navy blue coat, with a waistcoat to match, and a pressed white linen shirt. The buckskin breeches were of the summer variety, thin and light in color. Brand new top-boots sat in the floor of the wardrobe, polished and shiny. 

He turned to ask if the man was pleased with his wedding clothes, but stopped when he saw Daryl perched on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees and head in his hands.

“Mr. Dixon?” No reaction. Eric wasn’t sure what to do, but he couldn’t deny that the man was clearly distressed. He couldn’t just walk away. “Is there anything I can do?” He made sure his words were gentler this time. 

Daryl looked up at him, a hard glint in his eye. “You don’t even know me.” The words were a low growl and Eric could feel small trembles start in his hand but Daryl wasn’t scary in the way the earl was. Rick was a powder keg that could blow at any moment; Daryl was a wounded animal, unsure of who to trust.

“No,” Eric admitted, “but Aaron speaks very highly of you. As does Mrs. Peletier. And everyone can use more friends.” He knew he sounded naive, especially to a man like Daryl, who most likely never had any uses for a friend. But he couldn’t help the words coming from his mouth.

“Never had a friend before,” Daryl muttered, confirming Eric’s suspicions, “just my brother.”

“Do you miss him?”

“Kinda?” Daryl answered. “I don’t miss takin’ care of him, skippin’ a meal when he needed it more. Don’t miss his mouth,” his lips quirked up and Eric guessed he was reminiscing about fond times. “But I miss knowin’ if he’s alright.” He ran his hand across his face. “Really wish I knew what the hell I’s doin’... with… all this,” he waved his hand around the room.

“Which part?” Eric smirked at him. 

Daryl gave a dark chuckle, “I don’t know what I’m more scared of… havin’ to live like this fer the rest of my life… or knowin’ I gotta make it through tomorrow before I do.”

“You’re worried about tomorrow?” Eric asked, somewhat surprised.

Daryl nodded wordlessly, not looking at the other man.

“May I ask why?” Daryl didn’t respond. Eric studied the light flush creeping up his cheeks and decided to move forward. “Are you nervous about tomorrow or… tomorrow night?” He asked hesitantly, knowing this could blow up in his face at any moment. It wasn’t the most proper conversation, but he hoped he could get away with it since Daryl didn’t grow up being told those kind of things.

“Yer kinda nosy, you know that?” He smirked and Eric gave him his most cheeky smile.

“You and Aaron would be in agreement of that. I badgered him for weeks until he finally admitted that he had feelings for me.”

“I didn’t realize the two a you were-”

“Oh yes,” Eric sat down on the bed, next to Daryl. Again, not the proper thing to do and the earl would have dismissed him on the spot if he could see, but Daryl didn’t seem to care, “for almost two years now. We keep it quiet around the house, but it’s certainly no secret.”

He didn’t elaborate since he could see Daryl processing this news. And he was rewarded for his patience. “I’ve never had anyone like that before,” he told Eric quietly. “I don’t know what to do.”

Eric assumed that he meant in regards to the wedding night, so he gave the man some unsolicited advice. “Let him lead,” Daryl’s eyes snapped to him when he realized what Eric was talking about, “and be honest about your experience, or lack thereof, rather. And know that if he does something that you don’t like, you have every right to tell him. And if he doesn’t listen,” he continued gently, “you’ve every right to walk away.”

“Do you think… do you think he’ll hurt me?” The words spilled out of Daryl’s mouth before he could stop them. Eric could see the fear in his eyes that he was so desperately trying to hide. And though he wanted to immediately reassure him, he took his time to consider the words he wanted to use.

“No,” he said slowly, “I do not think his lordship would hurt you. Not on purpose. I believe… he feels a considerable amount of regret over what happened earlier in the week and has no desire for you to feel that way again. But you should be sure to tell him if you’re ever in any pain.”

“He wants to have kids,” Daryl whispered fearfully.

“And it might happen tomorrow night. Or it might not. Try to focus on the here and now, not the possibilities the next day could bring.” Eric watched as Daryl absorbed his words and thought about them. He longed to ask the other man what he was thinking, but it really wasn’t his place; he’d already overstepped enough boundaries as it was.

They sat in silence for several minutes before Daryl finally broke it. “Did you say you brought water?”

“I did,” Eric jumped up and moved to the basin and ewer. “I thought you might want to wash. Tomorrow is a special day after all.”

“It is,” Daryl said with a small smile. “Can I… can you,” he seemed to get frustrated with himself and Eric wondered how often in his life he’d actually ever asked for help, “is there any way I could wash my hair?” He finally managed to get out.

“Of course,” Eric answered gently. “Why don’t you get started with,” he gestured to Daryl’s body, “everything else. I’ll go downstairs and bring up what we need.”

He didn’t wait for Daryl to reply, but strode from the room and went to gather all the necessary supplies, including a bucket of clean water and the softer towels the earl used. When he returned, he knocked with much more confidence than the first time. Daryl answered right away, thankfully wearing a dressing gown and smelling like the lavender perfume Eric had sprinkled in the water. 

Daryl let him in and Eric immediately set about discarding the dirty water out the window and poured the fresh water into the ewer. He pulled out the crushed rose petals from their jar and mixed them in as well. He guided Daryl so that his head was over the basin and slowly poured the water over his hair. Holding the ewer with one hand, with the other he threaded his fingers through the other man’s soft tresses.

Eric worked quickly; he could feel Daryl’s tense muscles and he realized the man had probably never allowed himself to be in any kind of vulnerable position with anyone else. He felt his lips turn down in a frown. Daryl’s behavior did not bode well for tomorrow night, but he said nothing, not wanting to add to his stress.

As soon as he was finished, Eric let Daryl run the towel over his head. “Would you like for me to brush out your hair?” Eric asked timidly.

Daryl looked uncomfortable at the idea. “Is this another thing that is ‘simply done’?”

“Only if you wish it,” Eric replied. “The earl’s hair is too unruly for a daily brushing. Yours is much finer though. It would look pleasant for tomorrow.”

“Mmk then,” he replied, slowly, and settled at the vanity. 

Eric stayed for a long while, brushing Daryl’s dark blonde hair until it dried. Neither man said another word and Daryl never truly relaxed. When Eric finally left, he immediately ran to find Aaron and told him all that transpired. The two men spent many hours worrying over the morrow, only stopping when Eric started crying for the man he considered his new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally the third point: Next week's chapter is the one that gives this story it's explicit warning. Wedding night escapades abound!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Daryl's wedding night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whatever positive thoughts anyone sent my way paid off! Chapter 13 has a new direction and a plan! As always, thank you for the comments and kudos, they mean so much!   
And without further ado, the wedding night, full of stuff and thangs!!!

Daryl paced back and forth in the dressing room that connected his new room with Rick’s room; the marriage suite, Aaron had called it. It had been a long and trying day and now here he was at the end of it, married to a man he barely knew. A man who hit him just days ago. A man who offered him an out and Daryl was stupid enough to turn him down.

Their wedding that morning had been short and quiet, with only a handful of the servants in attendance. Merle never showed and Daryl was forced to walk down the aisle alone. It was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do; especially since his whole reason for still agreeing to marry the earl was to hopefully get Merle into a better situation and the bastard didn’t even bother to show his support. It should have been a happy day, a cheerful day. But the only thing cheerful about the ceremony was Father Gabriel’s obnoxiously positive voice that spoke of love and fidelity and all the bullshit about marriage that Daryl knew was just a sham. 

He held Rick’s hands all through the vows. The earl’s eyes had seemed a little sad, but he looked determined and Daryl drew some sort of strange comfort from that. If he was committed to seeing this thing through, then Daryl could as well. At least that’s what he kept telling himself as he stumbled through his vows. 

Daryl’s heart pounded as the night drew closer and closer, knowing what was coming, knowing it was his duty now to be taken to bed by his husband and give himself fully so as to consummate their marriage. He wasn’t a complete fool, he knew what to expect thanks to stories from Merle over the years. But he was still a virgin and the mere thought of being so vulnerable with another person set his palms sweating and his breath gasping. 

He’d kept his thoughts carefully in check all day, during the ceremony and the little reception Carol had put together once they returned to the manor. He very stubbornly refused to think of his wedding night. But now that he was alone, in nothing but his new night shirt, he couldn’t help but think about what would soon happen. He tried to remember Eric’s advice from yesterday, but it wasn’t doing much to help keep him calm. Aaron had insinuated that it would take Rick some time to prepare for bed, so all he had to do now was wait. And while he waited, all he could do was pace. He was most likely going to wear a trail into the plush carpet.

He was turning to go back the other way yet again, when the door to Rick’s room opened. He froze, but so did Rick, standing in the doorway with a shocked look on his face.

“Are you-”

“I didn’t realize-”

They both started speaking at the same time, Rick interrupting Daryl’s words, and then they both fell silent. Daryl didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to proceed and surely Rick could hear how loudly his heart was pounding. 

Rick took a deep breath. “Would you like to come in?”

Daryl’s breath was much more shaky. “Y-yes, thank you.” Rick stood aside and allowed him entry, but once he was properly in the room he stopped. He heard soft footsteps and then felt Rick close behind him.

“Would you like some wine? You barely had any at dinner and wine… can sometimes… help these sort of things along.” His voice was soft, almost caring.

“Please,” Daryl whispered in reply. Rick limped around him and slowly made his way to the desk where a decanter full of dark red wine stood. There wasn’t much light in the room. The fire in the hearth was accompanied by only a few candles that were near the bed, but Daryl suddenly wished for complete darkness.

“Why don’t you sit on the bed?” Rick asked as he poured the wine into two glasses. Daryl only nodded in reply and made his way to Rick’s bed. Rick’s bed where the man was about to take his virginity. Oh god, he didn’t know if he could do this. 

“Breathe Daryl,” Rick instructed him as he handed him his glass. Daryl did as he was told and took a sip of wine… at the same time. He coughed and sputtered and Rick hit him on the back to try to help. It only took a minute and his lungs were not completely full of wine, thankfully, but he heard Rick sigh. “Perhaps we shouldn’t do this tonight.” His brow was furrowed and his eyes seemed as melancholy as ever.

“No,” Daryl shook his head, “I want to- I mean we might as well- I mean, fuck,” he finished in exasperation.

“Yes, that was the idea,” Rick smirked, “but if the thought of it makes you want to drown in your wine, it might not be a good idea.”

“I’m a virgin,” he blurted out before he realized it might not be the best thing to say.

Rick put his glass down and stepped closer to the bed. “I thought as much. I promise to be gentle with you, Daryl,” his last words were whispered, barely a breath of sound and he cupped Daryl’s cheek with his hand, the touch feather soft. 

“I don’t know what to do,” he pleaded.

“Will it bother you to know that I do?” Rick asked.

Daryl shook his head. “I guess one of us should know what they’re doin’.” 

“Drink your wine,” was Rick’s reply. “Slowly.” They both spent the next few minutes in silence, sipping from their glasses. Daryl tried to not gulp the whole thing down at once and felt that he was mildly successful. When his glass was almost empty, Rick took it from him and sat both glasses on the desk before retrieving a glass bottle and tossing it on the bed.

“Oil,” he answered the unspoken question and despite the wine, Daryl felt his mouth go dry. 

“Rick I-” he swallowed hard when Rick pushed his knees apart and stood between them.

“I like it when you say my name,” he whispered, threading his fingers through Daryl’s soft hair and kissing him chastely on the forehead. Daryl felt a strange sensation swoop through his stomach and his cock stirred at the contact.

“Rick,” he breathed when his husband kissed him again, this time on his jaw. And when lips brushed against the corner of his mouth he managed it once again, a moan this time. “Riiiick.” And then his mouth was claimed by wet lips, moving and molding Daryl to their own. And Daryl let him. He let his husband take his mouth, yielding to him even though he never thought he could. 

His mouth opened in another moan and Rick took full advantage, plunging his tongue inside. He tasted of wine and the chocolate cake from earlier, and just… Rick. Daryl tentatively licked at Rick’s tongue with his own, as shy as a kitten walking on thin ice. But Rick moaned at the contact and brought his other hand up to cup the back of Daryl’s neck and pressed their lips together even harder. Rick’s tongue moved and dipped inside and all around Daryl’s mouth, taking his fill. Daryl felt his hands move of their own accord, coming up and resting on Rick’s hips. His body felt practically naked under Daryl’s hands, since he too was only in his night clothes. And even with all his fear, all his uncertainty, now he knew that he liked to be kissed and he wanted to do more of it.

But when Rick moved his own hands down and started to remove Daryl’s only protective layer, he froze.

“What is it?” Rick asked, sensing his change.

“Can we- can you… blow out the candles?” He couldn’t do anything about the fire in the hearth, they would get too cold, but the candles nearby the bed? They had to go.

“Of course,” Rick answered, a little confused, but he pulled away, blew all the candles out and came back, more subdued than before. “I didn’t think about the light. No need for you to see my face while we… do this.”

“What? No!” Daryl took longer than he cared to admit to understand Rick’s sudden change in demeanor. “Your scars… they don’t bother me. But I-I have my own.”

“Your own what?” Rick’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Scars,” Daryl whispered. It wasn’t something he’d given a lot of thought to until Rick went to remove his clothes. He didn’t know about Daryl’s scars, what if he decided he couldn’t stand the sight of them. He didn’t care about Rick’s scars, he was telling the truth, but he’d had all week to get used to them. He saw them every single day and he was all but immune to them. Daryl’s were carefully hidden on his back, under his shirt and Rick had yet to see them. 

“Where are they?” Rick asked with all the understanding in the world.

“My back,” he whispered back fearfully. Rick kissed him again, softly this time, before pulling away and gripping the long, thin shirt.

“I won’t see them,” he assured Daryl as he undressed him. And suddenly Daryl was naked, sitting in front of his husband that he barely knew, naked as the day he was born. 

“Rick-”

“I won’t,” he said again. “I’ll need you on your back,” he explained, “the weather didn’t cooperate today and my knee is stiff. I’m afraid your husband is practically an old man,” he gave a weak chuckle.

“You ain’t so old,” Daryl whispered, putting his hand to Rick’s cheek, to _his_ scars, for the first time. Rick flinched under his touch, but Daryl didn’t say anything about it. He just moved both of his hands down and stripped his husband so that Rick was as bare as he was. 

And finally, finally, Daryl felt like he could do this, that he could give himself to Rick. They were finally in front of each other as equals, both naked, both scarred. Daryl might be sitting, looking up at Rick, but he still felt as though they were on a much more even keel now. He reached up, grabbed Rick on the sides of his neck and pulled him back down so that he could be kissed again. And Rick obliged him, taking control as soon as their lips met. Daryl felt like clay in Rick’s hands, ready to be moved and molded in any way his husband wanted. 

Rick kissed him until he had no breath left and when Daryl pulled away gasping, he just moved his lips to Daryl’s jaw, then his neck, stopping long enough to suck a mark there. Then he continued to move down, his lips never leaving Daryl’s flesh. Daryl’s breathing became heavier as Rick’s lips traveled down his chest. He stopped to nip lightly at Daryl’s right nipple before moving to the left one. Daryl gave a little cry each time before he could stop himself, not that he really wanted to anyway. He gave himself over to Rick’s ministrations, letting him lead as Eric suggested. 

Rick pulled away from him, put his hand on Daryl’s shoulder and gave a little push. Daryl let himself fall back on the bed, but not moving more than that. His hips were almost off the bed and his toes were just barely brushing the floor. He heard Rick give a hum of approval before his hand moved down from his shoulder, across his chest and stomach, and finally rested on his hip. The light touch was enough to send Daryl’s cock to full mast and he saw Rick’s eyes gaze hungrily at his erection. He finally allowed himself to look his fill of Rick’s body and flushed when he saw that his new husband was just as affected as he was. 

But a trickle of fear crept in when he saw Rick’s cock, hard between his legs. How was that… going to go inside of him? How could it _not_ hurt? 

“Rick,” his voice trembled.

“Shh,” he soothed, “it’s alright. We’ll go slow. Put your feet on the edge of the bed, open your knees for me.” 

Daryl did as instructed and never felt more exposed in his entire life; he was so glad he had the wherewithal to ask Rick to extinguish the candles. But all thoughts of modesty flew out of his head when Rick wrapped a hand around his dick and stroked.

“Oh, god! Rick!” He pushed his hips up into Rick’s fist, the only touch, other than his own, that he’d ever felt. Rick stroked once, twice, three times before letting go and moving his hand down to cup his balls. Daryl whimpered, first at the loss of the delicious friction and then again as Rick held his most sensitive parts in his hand. But he didn’t stop there. His fingers brushed behind his balls and moved slowly down until they stopped at his hole and pressed lightly. Daryl gasped at the touch and his body jerked involuntarily. 

“Shh,” Rick said again, “breathe, just breathe.” His fingers disappeared and Daryl saw him reach for the bottle of oil. He opened it and coated his fingers with a generous amount before upending the bottle and letting a glob of it fall on Daryl’s skin… _right there_. His hissed through his teeth at the sudden sensation, but it soon turned into a moan when Rick’s finger returned, pushing gently around and around his opening. “God, you are so responsive,” Rick let out a moan of his own and Daryl could see his cock twitch up towards his stomach. Rick continued pressing, pressing, pressing, until the tip of his finger finally breached the tight ring of muscle and Daryl was suddenly being filled for the first time. 

And with just the tip of his finger inside, it felt like Daryl was already completely filled. But when Rick kept pressing the finger steadily in, he realized there was much more to take. He suddenly tensed up as Rick’s finger moved deeper, up to his second knuckle.

“Try to relax,” he instructed, “deep breaths. There’s no rush, Daryl.” No rush, he told himself over and over again. Rick poured more oil where his finger and Daryl’s body met and massaged it around the tight skin with his other fingers. After several deep breaths, Daryl felt the muscle relax and Rick’s finger went from an intrusion to a welcome addition to his body.

“That’s it,” he praised as the finger slid all the way inside. Daryl could hear his own noises fill the room, but he couldn’t make himself care. Especially when Rick crooked that finger upwards and hit a spot within him that took his breath away. Rick pressed his free hand to Daryl’s shoulder to keep him from bolting upwards.

“Rick, oh my- Rick, please, please.” He stroked the spot again and Daryl let out a sob that in any other circumstance he would have been ashamed of.

“Alright,” Rick’s voice was rough with desire as he pulled his finger back and then pressed in again, avoiding that spot this time.

“Wh-wh-what?” The sensation was pleasant, but nothing like before and Daryl didn’t understand why he’d stopped.

“It’s alright, just be patient. Twill get even better soon.”

Daryl didn’t know if his body could handle more pleasure. His heart was pounding, he could feel sweat pooling on his body, his hands were gripping the sheets of Rick’s bed so hard they hurt. And yet Rick spoke of more and he started to understand what that meant when Rick slipped a second finger inside of him. He pushed and pressed, pulled and stretched, manipulated Daryl’s body until he was satisfied enough to add a third.

The stretch of three fingers burned, but Daryl couldn’t think of it as pain. Especially when one of those talented fingers brushed over that spot again. Daryl’s cock jumped again and he longed for just a little bit of friction. Rick had ignored his aching member while he fingered Daryl’s entrance open and Daryl couldn’t even form the words to beg him for it. 

Daryl didn’t know how long he laid like that, spread open for Rick to prepare him, but it felt too soon when Rick pulled all three fingers out. Daryl mewled at the loss, unaware that he could even make such a sound.

“I know, sweetling, I know,” Rick said, voice full of longing. Daryl managed to lift his head and watch as Rick poured the oil on his huge cock, running his hand up and down to make sure it was slick. He poured a little more on Daryl and then he spread Daryl’s cheeks with one hand as held the base of his cock with the other to guide it in. He was bigger than three fingers and as soon as Daryl felt the head of his cock push into him he tensed again, expecting pain.

Rick put one hand on his chest, the other on his cock and soothed him with soft whispers and gentle touches. It still wasn’t enough friction for Daryl, but it gave him something to focus on. He took deep breaths and when he’d relaxed once more, Rick pushed in steadily and Daryl was actually filled now. 

Even considering that he just had Rick’s fingers inside of him, it was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. His body was full to the brim, taking every inch of Rick’s cock as though it was his only purpose in life. His eyes were wide and his mouth fell open with a gasp as he felt Rick sink all the way into him.

“Daryl,” Rick growled his name and Daryl felt something move within his soul, something primal and instinctive. He pushed down, further impaling himself of Rick’s cock. He still wasn’t completely used to the sensation, his hole stung and he was stretched to his limit, but it was so very _good_. He never knew anything in the world could feel that amazing.

With both hands, Rick grabbed Daryl’s hips to brace himself, before he pulled back in an agonizing slowness that seemed closer to torture than pleasure. Daryl whimpered when he could only feel the head of Rick’s cock just barely inside of him.

“You want me back inside you?”

“Please,” he begged, “please, Rick.” And thank god, Rick obliged him, pushing back in just as slowly. Only to pull back once more just as soon as he bottomed out, but he was minutely faster about it this time. He pushed in, rolling his hips just so, brushing that same spot within Daryl that made his blood boil and his vision blurred for a second. He cried out, loud enough to wake the whole house, but he couldn’t care.

“There it is,” Rick grinned like a cat caught in the cream and pulled out and pushed in again at the same angle. Daryl finally let go of the sheets, reached out to grip at Rick’s arms, and wrapped his legs around his waist, anything to get Rick even closer. Rick finally picked up his pace and fucked into Daryl faster and faster. And all Daryl could do was beg for more. It was like his body was trying to pull Rick in as much as it possibly could. 

Daryl felt like he was floating in a free fall and yet wound tighter a watch spring at the same time. Something burned within him, desperate to break free and he panted with the effort of holding himself back, of waiting, though he didn’t know why.

“That’s it,” Rick said to him. “God, Daryl all the things I want to do to you. Knew you’d be so beautiful in my bed.” He fucked into Daryl with a desperation, a reckless abandon Daryl had yet to see in the older man. But god, it felt so good. He wanted all those things that fell from Rick’s mouth and he wanted them with Rick, only Rick. He let his husband have him body and soul as he pushed him closer and closer to the edge of that cliff. “I want to see you come for me, Daryl. God,” he growled, “just let go, sweetling.”

And he did. It was as though he was waiting for permission, and when Rick finally gave it, he gave into the desire and pleasure. Gave into the sensation of Rick pushing his cock against that secret spot within his body. And he came harder than he ever had in his life. His cock spurted stream after stream of come up onto his belly, completely untouched, and his muscles clenched of their own accord. An action that made Rick roar and pound even harder into him. 

It only took a few more thrusts and Daryl was still floating when he felt the warm wetness of Rick’s seed flood his body. He moaned weakly at the sensation; it was filthy, obscene, and yet so satisfying. 

Rick leaned down and rested his forehead on Daryl’s chest, panting heavily. His cock was rapidly softening and there was nothing Daryl could do to stop it slipping from his body. It was not without protest, however, and Daryl’s whimper caused Rick to raise his head and chuckle.

“Stay here a moment,” he instructed and limped off. Time passed strangely and Daryl had no idea how long he lay there alone. But he startled when he felt a cold rag on stomach and then his ass. “Sorry, sweetling,” Rick murmured, “just wanted to clean you before you left.”

Daryl sat up when the rag disappeared. “Left?” He suddenly felt empty and cold and it was most certainly not from the lack of Rick’s body in his own, or the rag on his flesh. His heart felt hollow, his soul bereft.

“I assumed you wished to sleep in your room,” Rick offered, but when Daryl didn’t reply, he tried again, “Or you may sleep here with me.”

“No,” Daryl felt his lips move slowly, like his brain was muddled, “no I’ll… sleep. In my room. Yeah.” He stood, gathered his night shirt and pulled it over his head before he moved towards the door.

“Goodnight, Daryl,” Rick called after him and he had to stop and bite his lip to remain in control, to not turn around and fling himself in Rick’s arms. He reminded himself of why Rick offered him the marriage in the first place; he was there to give Rick children, a prop to remind the man that he wasn’t totally alone. 

Daryl crawled into his new bed and tried to stem the tears that threatened. For a few sweet moments, he truly thought he meant something more to Rick. That maybe, just maybe, there was a happy ending for them. But the ache in his ass reminded him that his body was empty, while the ache in his soul made him realize he didn’t want to be.   
But there was no way for him to resolve the two. So, alone in his new fancy bed with a shiny ring on his finger, Daryl cried himself to sleep, wishing that he didn’t even know what it felt like to give himself to Richard Grimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Guilty grin* You didn't think I'd make it that easy right? I'm going to go hide now. Next week, Daryl finds some confidence.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters today because this one is so short. As always, a huge thank you to everyone who has read, left kudos, and/or commented!!! They keep me going. Chapter 13 is still giving me trouble but it has direction now, so hopefully everything will be up on schedule. Stay tuned for chapter 11 today and chapter 12 next week!

Daryl was up before the sun. It wasn’t really surprising, considering the truly shitty sleep he’d gotten, but he was a little frustrated by it. Sleep didn’t bring solutions, or peace, or clarity, or any of the other bullshit people like Eric might subscribe to. But just because it was bullshit didn’t mean he didn’t wanted those things any less.

He took a few deep breaths to steady himself. His body ached in a good way, his heart not so much. But he wasn’t going to sit in his bed, waiting for the sun to come up and wallow in his misery. He looked around the room and saw that Aaron, or maybe Eric, had brought his bow from his temporary room to this new permanent room. It wasn’t the solution to his problem with his new husband, but it might bring him some peace. 

Daryl threw the covers back, dressed in his old clothes, and then made his bed. It was slow going, each movement reminding him that Rick had been deep inside of him last night. He did his best to ignore it, but the sun was peeking over the horizon when he finally crept quietly through the house and exited out the front door. It was easier than he thought it would be; if anyone in the house was awake, they hadn’t made their presence known yet, so he went out into the still sleeping world with no one the wiser.

A pure mist hung over the grounds surrounding the manor and Daryl’s quiet steps stirred it around his legs. It was… magical, almost. Alone in the world, surrounded by the moving mist. It made everything seem different, seem a little bit better. 

He wiped his face, but didn’t break his stride. He felt foolish for crying so much last night, his eyes stung from it. It didn’t feel foolish then, but here in the light of the dawn… he shook his head. He should have just told Rick he wanted to stay. Because he did. He did want to spend the night with Rick, he expected to. And Rick expected him to want space. He even offered, asked Daryl if he wanted to stay. If he’d just been honest… 

But honesty wasn’t something that came easy to Daryl. Feelings and confessions were meant to be hidden, unless he wanted to provoke his father into a drunken rage that always ended in a beating. But Rick wasn’t Will Dixon. After everything that happened, he knew Rick would never raise a hand to him again. And last night, his new husband had been patient, considerate, and gentle. If their marriage was going to work, and he suddenly realized that he wanted it to, he was going to have to tell Rick what he wanted. Even if he wasn’t sure why he wanted it.

He couldn’t change what happened last night. His lips quirked up into a smile as his ass twinged with every step; there was a lot from last night he’d never want to change. But tonight could be different. Tonight, he’d tell Rick what he wanted.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This one's got lots of feels.

Rick woke the next morning happier than he’d been in a long time. He stretched out in his bed with a small smile on his face. Being inside of Daryl on their wedding night was, quite possibly, the single most wonderful moment of his life. Nothing felt more glorious than being buried in his warm, tight body. He was getting hard again just thinking about it. He looked to the other side of the bed and with a pang, remembered that Daryl had slept in his own room after they’d consummated their marriage. That just wouldn’t do, Rick thought. Mayhap he could convince Daryl to stay with him tonight. Fall asleep on their sides, with his cock still in his ass. He smiled deliciously at the thought.

He threw the covers back and limped to the window, pulling the curtains back to reveal a beautiful spring day. Not a cloud in the sky. His smile widened and his cock twitched. If the weather cooperated, he could have Daryl on his knees tonight.

A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts and he called out, “Come in, Aaron.”

“Good morning, my lord,” the butler greeted him.

“Tis a very good morning, indeed,” Rick grinned. 

Aaron put the larger than normal tray on the desk. “I thought you might want to breakfast with your new husband,” he said, looking around the room and frowning slightly when he didn’t see Daryl. 

“Indeed I do,” Rick replied, unruffled. “He slept in his room.”

“Shall I fetch him?” Aaron tried to hide his feelings at Rick’s words, but the flash of concern was obvious; Aaron didn’t approve but of course wouldn’t say anything. Rick nodded his assent and watched as Aaron disappeared through the dressing room door. He moved to the tray, excited to share an intimate meal with his husband.

“My lord?” Aaron’s voice penetrated his fantasy.

“Yes?”

“Master Daryl is not in his room,” the butler’s voice was guarded, concerned, and just a little bit fearful.

Rick felt the world rush around him at Aaron’s words. The fruit he was holding in his fingers plopped back on the tray. “What do you mean?” He wheeled around to face his butler.

“He’s not there, my lord. I knocked on his door and called for him. When he didn’t answer, I entered and the room is empty, the bed is made, and…” he hesitated a moment before continuing, “his bow is missing.”

Rick suddenly felt numb. The swirl of emotions that threatened to surface was just too much, too fast. The day turned dark and the ground crumbled under his feet and the air turned to ice in his lungs. 

“My lord?” Aaron prompted softly and Rick briefly wondered how much the man saw, how transparent he was.

“Send Eric in about an hour,” he tried to keep his voice even as he replied. He couldn’t look at Aaron, couldn’t move as he tried to remember how to breathe.

“As you wish, my lord,” Aaron said, still just as soft as before. Rick heard fading footsteps before the door closed with a deafeningly quiet click. When he was alone again, he allowed himself to fully break his crumbling facade and closed his eyes to try to stop the tears that threatened. It was no use.

Rick thought that last night was a turning point for the two of them. Being that vulnerable with each other _had_ to mean something. It just had to. He hadn’t been intimate with anyone since the war and the effort it took to just let Daryl into his room last night was enough to take his breath away. But he still did it and he hoped that Daryl didn’t notice. He wanted their first time, Daryl’s first time, to be slow and sweet. He wanted to focus only on his husband and not his own insecurities. So he pushed them down and tried to focus on Daryl. 

When Daryl had asked him to extinguish the candles, terror and anger gripped his heart like a vice, only to be immediately replaced by such sorrow when Daryl explained it was to hide _his own scars_. Rick thought his heart was going to break; maybe it did. He wanted to pull the younger man to his chest and hold him there until the sun rose. Bearing such scars was a burden that he knew all too well. And to discover they had that in common, it was a revelation. He tried to reassure Daryl and help him focus on what was about to happen. Because Rick didn’t care that Daryl’s body held scars, what he cared about more than anything in that moment was making absolutely sure that he wasn’t going to hurt his virgin husband. 

So he took his time and watched Daryl carefully, looking for any signs of distress. And god above, Daryl had been absolutely beautiful. Responsive in the best way, panting and sweating before Rick even got a finger in him. As for the rest of it… it was better than Rick could have ever imagined. He fit inside Daryl as though the younger man had been made just for him. And he was so looking forward to sinking into his body again. Until now, that is.

Rick took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. The pain steadied him and he was able to calm himself for the moment. But Daryl disappearing from his room truly took the wind out of sails. It was so… unexpected. Reminiscent of Daryl’s first night. He hadn’t thought Daryl would leave then either and it had been the most infuriating and terrifying moment since he’d been to war. At least now his temper was in check. But all that meant was the pang of loneliness was sharper and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t will those feelings away. It was a reminder that they barely knew each other, that Daryl was just his husband and not his lover

He’d agreed to this marriage to get something out of it; they both had. So Rick knew that he was just a means to an end, but he couldn’t be resentful of it. Daryl gave up his whole life to be married to him and Rick would give him anything he desired. Even before last night. 

Rick picked at his tray of food, knowing he needed to eat. But everything tasted like ash in his mouth. When Eric came, he let the man help him dress, but refused his usual morning shave. After his valet left, he knew he couldn’t sit in his room all day, so he headed to the library and tried to find a distraction.

He immersed himself in a novel, the first book he pulled from a random shelf, and tried to ignore the hopelessness and frustration that threatened to engulf him. He wasn’t as successful as he hoped he would be. His thoughts wandered away from Daryl and back again, offering no solution as to where or why his husband ran off again. Time passed in dollops as his thoughts whirled around in his mind. It rushed by in large quantities sometimes, only to compensate by passing in tiny droplets whenever Rick couldn’t resist looking at the large clock in his library. 

But he knew it was almost midday, despite his resolution to _not_ look at that godforsaken clock, when he heard the door open. He looked at the page of his open book as though it held the meaning of life, even though he hadn’t read a single word, when he spoke.

“I’m fine, Aaron, and no I’m not hungry,” Rick called out without looking up and hoping his butler would just leave him alone.

“Guess I should take this back to the kitchen then,” came the gruff, unexpected reply. Rick snapped his book shut and looked up with wide eyes to see Daryl, and for the second time that day, he forgot how to breathe. Daryl was there, he came back, just as he did before, but this time Rick wasn’t angry, just overwhelmingly grateful that his husband returned to him.

Daryl was standing in the doorway and holding a tray that was laden with tea and sandwiches. He was wearing his old clothes, and although Rick knew they’d been laundered, they looked a bit dirty. Rick tilted his head, trying to understand what he was looking at, because the sight of his husband, dirty and in old clothes, holding a tea tray, complete with the full silver service and a rose in a crystal vase, just did not make sense.

“Did you carry that all the way up from the kitchen?” Was all he could think to ask.

“Nah,” Daryl answered, taking careful steps to set it on the library table. Rick saw his body was shaking but the teacups never rattled. “Aaron helped me up the stairs.”

“And what, pray tell, were you doing in the kitchens to begin with?” His tone was light, more curious than critical.

“Am I not allowed?” Daryl’s voice was hesitant and he didn’t meet Rick’s eyes.

“It’s not…” but he stopped himself because saying _It’s not how things are done_ just seemed wrong in that moment. “You are allowed to go wherever you wish, Daryl.”

“I crossed paths with some ducks this mornin’,” he admitted. “I wanted to give ‘em to Miss Olivia. She said that’s what we can expect for supper tonight.”

“Is that why you weren’t in your room this morning?” The question came out softer and more melancholy than he intended and Rick wondered if Daryl could see his hurt.

“I felt like... takin’ a walk,” he answered, sitting down very carefully. Rick raised an eyebrow and watched as Daryl blushed from the roots of his hair to what he could see of his chest. “It wasn’t without its difficulties,” Daryl admitted and Rick did his best to hide his smirk. “But,” Daryl forced his words on, “I found the ducks, so it was worth it.”

“Was that all you found?” Rick found himself asking. There was something about his husband that seemed… different. He couldn’t quite name it but he also couldn’t imagine the young man he met less than a week ago carrying a tea tray and yet here he was.

But all Daryl said was, “No, it wasn’t,” and Rick forgot to press him for details because suddenly Daryl was pouring their tea. 

It was _fascinating_. No one, other than Aaron, had ever poured Rick his tea before; he actually preferred to do it himself. But Daryl was so careful, concentrating so hard. The movements were vulnerable, unsure, and timid, and Rick almost felt that witnessing such an act was even more intimate than what they did last night.

Daryl didn’t spill a drop and poured the milk and sugar exactly as he liked it. He passed Rick his stirring spoon and then added milk and sugar to his own tea, just as carefully. His focus intensified even more, if that was possible, when he started stirring his own tea; he didn’t make a single sound. Rick couldn’t keep his eyes off of him even if he wanted to. 

Daryl then put one of each type of sandwich on their plates and sat Rick’s in front of him first before serving himself. He sat back and picked up his cup and finally realized that Rick was staring at him.

“What?” He demanded, even as his face bloomed with red splotches.

“Where did you learn to serve such a fine tea?” Rick tried not to tease, but judging by the scowl on Daryl’s face, he wasn’t exactly successful.

“Carol’s been teachin’ me,” he admitted after several long minutes, looking resolutely at the floor. Rick took a sip of the tea; it was perfect. He wanted to say so but he was afraid it would only embarrass Daryl further. They stayed silent for a while, sipping their tea and eating their sandwiches. But like the other times Rick sat in Daryl’s quiet presence, it wasn’t uncomfortable. His husband was not verbose and Rick found it peaceful, comforting even. They might not be speaking, but he wasn’t alone. Daryl came back to him and he wasn’t alone. 

The tea and food was, as always, delicious and as Rick started to slow down, he noticed the rose in the vase. At least, he thought it was a rose. Up close, it looked nothing like the white or red roses that grew in the garden. This one was small, and the palest pink he’d ever seen. He reached a hand to brush ever so slightly against the bottom of the closest petal.

“It’s a wild rose,” Daryl explained softly, breaking the silence for the first time. 

Rick looked at him and was met with wary eyes. He kept his touch feather light as he replied. “I’ve never seen such a flower before. It’s beautiful.”

“They grow at the edge of the treeline, so they don’t get too much sun,” Daryl explained. “You have to know what you’re lookin’ for, they don’t grow jus’ anywhere. But they’re hardy and stubborn and still grow.”

“How do you know that?” Rick asked before he realized just how insulting the question might be.

Daryl stared at him for at least a minute, his eyes so narrow they were almost shut. “My mother used to pick them.” He answered and then stood and started walking around the library, like he couldn’t sit still for another minute. Rick watched him, studying his back and broad shoulders, as he walked around the room, looking at the shelves of books. It was the first time he’d heard his husband mention his mother; it was obviously a difficult subject and Rick resolved to remember and respect that.

“You’re welcome to any of these books,” he finally said, breaking the silence and changing the subject, “they are now yours as well.”

Daryl paused with his finger barely brushing against the spine of a large volume Rick couldn’t see. “I… can’t,” he took a deep breath; Rick wished he could see his face. “I can’t read.”

Daryl continued to stare at the wall of books, but Rick could see how tense he was, the muscles in his back pulled tighter than a bow string. He was waiting for Rick’s judgement, for the prejudice and negativity. But all Rick could feel was happiness that his husband made such a confession to him.

“Would you like to learn?” Rick asked him. Daryl turned around and looked at him with an uncertain expression. “I can teach you,” he offered gently. _Please let me teach you_, he begged silently, _let me give you this, let me give you everything_. They stared at each other for another minute. Rick waited with baited breath and hoped his expression was open and inviting; at least, as much as it could be with scars controlling his every demeanor. Then, to his utter astonishment, Daryl nodded. Rick patted the spot next to him. “Come sit and I’ll fetch what we need.” 

Daryl moved slowly to the couch, while Rick gripped his cane and heaved himself to his feet. He moved slowly as always, but the happiness in his heart couldn’t be contained. He never knew that giving his husband something would make him feel this elated. But Daryl deserved the world and if he wanted to read, Rick would teach him. He could feel his husband’s eyes on him as he walked to the glass fronted cabinet in the corner. It was rarely used and mostly forgotten, as Rick refused to toss its contents. And now he felt absolutely justified in his hording tendencies as he pulled out the old hornbook, the battledore that was barely in better shape, and, after a moment’s reflection, his first primer as well. If anything he’d leave them on the table for Daryl to use whenever he wanted, but Rick knew he would learn the letters in no time. 

He made his way as quickly as possible back to the couch, where his beautiful husband was looking at him with expectant, but guarded eyes. Daryl stayed stock still when he sat close enough for their thighs to touch, but Rick acted as though it was nothing. He laid the hornbook in Daryl’s lap and they were off.

The rest of the day flew by as the two of them sat together in the library, bent over the hornbook and the battledore. Just as Rick expected, Daryl learned the letters and their sounds before the sun met the horizon. He was incredibly intelligent and Rick was in awe of his tenacity. He was shy at first, hesitant to move closer so Rick could point to the letters. But after the first hour passed, they were leaning into each other’s shoulders, heads bent towards one another. The longer they sat together, the more Rick felt something change. Something was shifting and he was loathe to move or even breathe, lest he break the tenuous bridge they were building. As he watched Daryl struggle and persevere to learn, he felt that there was something happening between them that wasn’t there before. 

They were close, brushing together just so, when Aaron knocked on the door to announce the evening meal, at which point they sprung apart, as though they were involved in something scandalous.

“May I escort you to your room to change for the meal?” Rick asked hesitantly. They had yet to eat together, save for their wedding feast yesterday, since he’d been bedridden all week. He suddenly realized that he had no idea where Daryl ate. 

“Is this one of those things that’s just simply done? I can’t eat in my regular clothes now?” Daryl looked pained as he asked the question, like he was concerned that he wasn’t good enough to eat with Rick. Which couldn’t have been further from the truth.

Rick didn’t care how he was dressed, or where they ate, as long as they ate together, like he wanted to this morning with breakfast. He suddenly realized that this would be a crossroads for them and he did not want to lose this new delicate connection with Daryl. Suddenly, being proper was incredibly unimportant; all he cared about was Daryl being comfortable and the two of them actually getting to know one another even more.

“If you would, Aaron,” Rick turned to the man, “please bring the meal in here. I don’t think we’re quite done for the day.”

If the request shocked the proper butler, he didn’t show it. “As you wish, my lord.” He nodded and left them alone once more.

Rick turned and saw Daryl looking at him, curiously. “You don’t usually do that,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“No, I don’t,” Rick replied, a little unsure. He didn’t know what Daryl was thinking, and he suddenly wished that he did know. But his husband was enigmatic as ever.

“Are you feelin’ alright today?” He asked and Rick tilted his head in confusion. “Doc told me that you’d probably be sore for a while.”

“Ah,” Rick nodded in understanding. They hadn’t spoken of that first night since Tuesday morning. “I’m fine,” he assured him. His brow furrowed a bit as he wondered when the last time someone, who wasn’t a doctor or in his employ, asked if he was alright, physically or otherwise. He couldn’t think of a single time and it made his heart flutter a bit to realize that Daryl even cared enough to ask. It might not be true love, but at least he cared… even a little bit. 

“You’d tell me, right? If you weren’t fine?” Daryl asked, his eyes darting everywhere but Rick’s face.

“If that’s what you wish,” Rick answered.

“In sickness and in health right? That’s what we promised yesterday.”

“So we did,” Rick turned to him and placed his hand on his husband’s thigh and Daryl finally looked him in the eye. “Daryl?”

“Yes, Rick?” Daryl asked, a little breathless.

“Perhaps… this didn’t happen… in the best of ways. But I want-”

What Rick was trying to tell his husband was that he wanted a real marriage with him, that he wanted to get to know him, to court him, to maybe love him. But Aaron had impeccable, or horrible, timing and opened the door carrying their meal just as Rick was about to bare his desires to Daryl. They jumped apart again and Rick had to fight the irrational urge to throw his butler from the room, food and all. But he heard Daryl’s stomach growl with hunger and he sighed softly. They needed to eat; it was well past seven by then, and Aaron’s entrance might have been a blessing in disguise. At least that’s what Rick told himself as they tucked in to the dinner of fresh duck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming next week: the rest of the evening ;)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Later that same night...

The clock struck nine as Rick escorted Daryl to his door. The pressure of his hand in the crook of Rick’s elbow was a strange albeit comforting presence. Daryl grounded him in ways he never imagined were possible. As they ascended the stairs, he seemed perfectly content to travel at Rick’s pace, which was slow. But he never seemed hurried or impatient, just silent, and Rick felt comfortable with him. His knee did not hurt as badly as it had the night before. When Daryl was about to let go of his arm and walk into his own room, Rick had to stop him, their chests almost touching.

“Will you come to me tonight?” He asked and mentally cursed himself for how desperate he sounded.

Daryl looked at him, his blue eyes wide, and his tongue darted out across his lips before he bit gently on the bottom one in uncertainty. “If… if you wish,” he whispered.

“Is it what you want?” Rick pressed him.

“Yes,” Daryl’s voice was as soft as a breath, but Rick thought maybe he could detect longing in the hushed word. “Should I… wait for you? Do I-”

“Shh,” Rick stopped Daryl’s panic, “Go change your clothes and wait for me in the dressing room.” He put his hand on Daryl’s cheek and ran his thumb over his bottom lip. “I’ll see you soon,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire and he limped away to his own door. 

He hurried through his evening routine, already half hard at the thought of Daryl waiting for him. He threw his clothes on the floor, not caring in the least that they would have to be laundered now. He debated for a moment whether or not he should just fetch Daryl naked, but he wasn’t sure he was ready for that yet. He was sure Daryl didn’t exactly pay attention to the scars on his knee and leg last night; he seemed a little preoccupied once they were both naked.

So he pulled his dressing gown around his body, not bothering with anything else, and limped to the door of the dressing room. He pulled the door open so hard, he was sure he damaged the hinges, and there he was. Pacing again, just like last night.

“Come in?” Rick couldn’t keep the longing out of his voice. Daryl blushed and ducked his head, but he walked in as Rick held the door open for him. He closed the door and watched as Daryl stopped at the edge of the bed. But he didn’t move to sit down, he just stared at the bed, much like he did last night. Rick walked across the room as quietly and as quickly as he could. 

He stopped behind Daryl, barely a breath away from his back, and he noticed that his husband was trembling.

“Daryl?” The man in question jumped, not realizing how close Rick was. “If you’d rather not-”

“No,” Daryl interrupted him, more forceful than Rick thought he’d be. Daryl turned around and looked him in the eye. “I want to do this,” there was a fire in his blue eyes that hadn’t been there the previous night, “and I want to stay.”

“Stay?”

“Here,” Daryl clarified, “tonight. In here. With you.” The glint in his eyes, the sureness of his words, god above, the words themselves, took Rick’s breath away. There was no way he could answer, no words to explain how ecstatic Daryl’s announcement made him. So he did the only thing he could do; he reached up, cupped Daryl’s face in his hands, and kissed him. Deep and slow, like he could never get enough. And Daryl kissed him back, his arms wrapping around Rick’s neck to pull their bodies closer. 

Daryl sighed and Rick took the opportunity to slip his tongue between Daryl’s lips. It had been almost twenty-four hours since he tasted Daryl last and he resolved then and there to never go so long again without kissing him. If heaven had a flavor, it would be Daryl’s tongue against his own. Daryl tasted of uncertainty, desire, and a certain wildness that Rick had never encountered before. It was intoxicating. 

Daryl broke their kiss to breathe, but Rick couldn’t get enough of him. Just as he had the night before, he moved his lips down Daryl’s neck and could feel the moan in his throat.

“Rick,” he gasped.

“Are you sure?” He had to know, “You aren’t too sore?”

“No, god, please Rick. Please.”

And how could he deny him when he begged so beautifully? He moved back to claim his husband’s lips again and this time pushed his body so that Daryl had no choice but to back up a step until he hit the bed. Rick pulled away long enough to yank Daryl’s nightshirt from his body and then resumed the assault on his lips. He felt Daryl’s hands push his dressing gown from his shoulders and he let go long enough for it to slide off his arms and fall to the floor. He pushed Daryl down and crawled over him as they both moved up properly onto the bed. 

As soon as Daryl’s head rested on the pillow, Rick stopped to hover over him, his hands on either side of the younger man’s head. Their bodies were flush together only from the waist down but Rick could feel Daryl gasping for breath under him. They stared at each other for several moments. Daryl’s eyes were black in the low fire light, his state of desire on display for only Rick to see. Rick felt their erections whispering against each other and he rolled his hips deliberately so that their cocks rubbed together properly. Daryl arched into it, his head pressing into the pillow under him, and moaned. And of course, Rick couldn’t resist wrapping a hand around the both of them and moving up, then down slowly.

“Rick,” Daryl moaned again.

“Yes, beautiful,” he whispered in response, the endearment falling from his lips before he could stop it. He saw a flush spread across Daryl’s cheeks and spread down his chest and he opened his mouth to respond. But before he could get any words out, Rick took advantage of the opening and thrust his tongue inside. Daryl squeaked in surprise, but didn’t pull away. Rick continued to plunder his husband’s mouth as his hand moved up and down, over and over, holding their members together. He broke away so they could breathe and Daryl moaned again.

“God Rick.”

“What do you want, Daryl? I’ll give you anything,” he told him breathlessly.

“Want you… inside of me,” he broke off with a whimper, “please. Husband.”

And god, Rick had to stop himself from coming just hearing that word on Daryl’s lips. “Jesus, fuck, Daryl,” he gasped, “the things you do to me.”

“M-me?”

And suddenly Rick realized his young husband didn’t know how stunning he was, didn’t know the effect he had on Rick.

“Oh, beautiful,” he released their cocks and ran his hand through Daryl’s hair, before kissing down his neck to his chest. “I thought my heart stopped when I first saw you. Eyes the color of the sky,” he ran his tongue over Daryl’s left nipple and sucked when he arched up into it, “shoulders broader than the doorway, those delicate hands. I wanted to run my tongue over every inch of you,” he moved to the right nipple to give it the same treatment, “wanted to see you on your knees, feeding you my cock.”

“Oh my god,” Daryl cried out and tried to rut up against Rick, but he moved his body up, denying him the friction he was chasing. “Rick please.”

“Another night perhaps, sweetling. For now, I believe you asked me to be inside of you,” he whispered, kissing down Daryl’s body and grabbing the bottle of oil as he went. Daryl parted his legs and Rick settled between them. He took the top off the bottle of oil and coated his fingers. Daryl was panting by when Rick touched his entrance with a single finger.

“Just relax,” Rick soothed him. Daryl took a deep breath and Rick was able to push his finger in slowly.

“Riiiiiick,” Daryl drew his name out on a moan. Rick pumped his finger in and out, letting Daryl get used to it again. “More, Rick, please”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” He shouted, his head jerking up from the pillow. “God, please.”

Rick poured more oil on his fingers and gave him what he asked for. Daryl’s hole pulsed around his two fingers, like his body was pulling Rick in greedily. Rick stretched him, able to work quickly, and soon felt satisfied enough to add a third finger. The moans spilling from Daryl’s mouth were absolutely obscene and his own cock throbbed painfully, almost in time with every noise his husband made. When Daryl felt relaxed and loose, he removed his fingers and pushed his husband’s legs up and back. Daryl whimpered and Rick didn’t know if it was at the sudden emptiness or exposure.

“Shh, my beautiful husband,” he whispered, lining his cock up with Daryl’s hole and sliding in slowly.

“Rick!” He sobbed and Rick froze.

“Are you in pain?” He asked frantically.

“No god no, please please don’t stop. Want you,” he panted, “in me. Please, feels… so… good.”

Rick said nothing, but pushed until he was fully seated inside of him. He leaned over, almost folding Daryl in half, but he didn’t seem to mind. Rick had to kiss him, had to claim his mouth as he pulled out and pushed back in, ever so gently. Daryl cried out again at the sensation and Rick gave a deep moan of his own.

Daryl’s body felt like it was made for him and only him. _God but he’s perfect_, Rick thought as he picked up his pace, both with his cock and his tongue, plundering every inch of Daryl’s body that he could. He knew the angle wasn’t the best, but he loved how his body felt on top of his husband’s, loved the way he responded, loved the noises he made whenever Rick gave a particularly hard thrust. He pulled away from Daryl’s lips gasping for breath, and loved the sight below him: Daryl pinned beneath him, eyes wide, mouth opened, panting and sweating and looking as though Rick was the only thing in his world. No one had ever looked at Rick like that. Never. And he felt something warm in his chest. Something that had nothing to do with his cock buried in Daryl’s tight heat. Or maybe it had everything to do with it. He didn’t know. All he knew was that he would take whatever his new husband would give him. He would take it and cherish it.

He sat up so that the angle changed and he knew he was hitting that pleasure spot that would light Daryl’s body on fire. Daryl reached up and grabbed Ricks arms with every ounce of strength he had and met the thrusts as best as he could. The sound of their bodies moving together became more obscene with every thrust. The moans from both of their mouths filled the room. Their eyes never left each other, blue on blue blown wide with pleasure. Daryl’s grip on Rick’s arms was hard enough to leave bruises and Rick loved it; it was like Rick was his anchor in the middle of a storm filed sea. 

“Rick, ‘m close, please.”

“What do you need, beautiful?”

“Touch me,” he begged.

And Rick gave him what he asked for. He wrapped his hand around Daryl’s cock and stroked once, twice and suddenly Daryl was coming. He clenched down on Rick with an almost painful grip, his cock spilling across Rick’s hand and both of their stomachs, his whole body flushed and he cried out a gorgeous string of profanity as pleasure rolled through his body.

Rick could feel his own release coming closer and as he looked at Daryl’s face, so wanton, with the most precious whimpers now spilling from his mouth, and he fell over the edge. He thrust into Daryl a few more times to chase the sensation and leaned forward, his hands on either side of his husband, both of them breathing heavily. He rested his head against Daryl’s forehead as his cock softened enough to slip from him. He felt Daryl’s wince, but it was Rick who cried out as their bodies separated. It wasn’t until then that he realized how much he needed that connection. How much he _loved_ it. And loved it with Daryl.

Daryl’s hands finally loosened their grip on Rick’s arms, only to slide around his back and push. Rick fell on top of him, his head slipping between his chin and his shoulder, but Daryl caught his full weight and his arms snaked around Rick’s back to hold him there. He couldn’t move even if he wanted to and he was so happy that Daryl already said he wanted to stay. He wouldn’t be able to stand it if he left now.

“Shh,” Daryl whispered, “it’s alright. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

And Rick realized he’d said all of those thoughts out loud. It took every ounce of strength he possessed to keep the tears in his eyes from spilling down onto Daryl’s chest. Daryl kept one arm anchored to his back, while the other hand came up and ran through his hair.

They’d known each other less than a week. To his everlasting shame, he’d struck Daryl the same day they’d met and arranged a marriage. And still Daryl married him. Still he stayed. Rick never met anyone else like Daryl in his life. He would give Daryl anything in the world. Anything he ever wanted.

And even though he knew Daryl didn’t want it, Rick was giving him his heart all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you everyone for all the wonderful comments!!! I hope you enjoyed this second smutty chapter. Things are about to happen at warp speed for these two, so buckle up!  
Chapter 13, in all it's difficult and stubborn glory, is finally done and I'm in the process of writing chapter 14. I'm trying really hard to stay ahead of the game, but I also don't want to post something I'm unhappy with. I promise to keep everyone updated in the event that a catastrophe occurs and I'm unable to post on time, but chapter 13 WILL be up next Sunday as scheduled!!!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One month later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is!!! The most stubborn chapter I think I've ever dealt with. I would like to thank TWDObsessive and Majestiel for getting me through this chapter, reading it, talking me down from the ledge, and everything else that gave me trouble with this tricky chapter. I couldn't have made it through this chapter without the two of them!
> 
> This chapter is a nod to the famous ballroom scene from Beauty and the Beast.
> 
> Thank you everyone for your continued interest in this story. Your comments and kudos make my day!

Daryl woke to sunlight peeking through the gap in the curtains. It wasn’t often that the sun was up before he was, but he was content and it was difficult to move at the moment. Rick was plastered to his back, snoring softly in his ear with his arm slung around Daryl’s stomach. It had taken a few weeks for Daryl to get used to sleeping with Rick. The man snored louder than a bear and he had spent a few sleepless nights with his eyes wide open as Rick snored right in his ear. But his arm was always around Daryl’s stomach and that made Daryl unwilling to move. So he stuck it out, and now, a month after their wedding day, he found it was impossible to go to sleep without Rick’s snores filling the room. It was comfortable now. Peaceful.

Most mornings Daryl was up before the dawn. He would slip reluctantly from Rick’s arms and dress silently. And like the morning after their wedding, he would sneak quietly through the manor and out into the world. Sometimes he would hunt, sometimes he would simply walk around, letting his thoughts swirl around his head just as the mist swirled around his body. Always he would stop to pick a pink wild rose to bring back to his husband.

He made sure to return to Rick’s bedroom before Aaron delivered the breakfast tray, so that his husband didn’t have to wake up alone. When Rick woke at Daryl’s touch, Daryl would shyly present him with the rose and Rick would kiss him chastely on the lips to show his thanks. It was, in Daryl’s opinion, the most perfect way to start the day and soon the soft smell of roses was a permanent fixture in the bedroom. 

After breakfast, they would seclude themselves in the library for Daryl’s lessons. As soon as he read through the easy primers, Rick encouraged him to read more difficult books. They would sit next to each other on the sofa in the library, reading for hours, moving closer to each other as the time passed. After a few days, Daryl grew bold and started scooting closer to Rick even faster, so that by noon their thighs would be touching. At that first brush of contact, their eyes would meet briefly, Rick would smile and Daryl would flush. His heart would be pounding and he would turn back to his book right away, but they never broke the contact. In fact, by the time Aaron brought in the afternoon tea, Rick and Daryl would be pressed against each other, almost leaning into one another as they read. They would knock elbows playfully and even though he’d learn to read and read well, Daryl was so distracted by each touch, it took him forever to finish a book.

Since he wasn’t making much progress reading, he asked Rick to teach him to write. He thought that maybe it would take them off the couch and provide a little bit of space between their heated bodies, but he was wrong. Rick did move them to the large desk on the other side of the library, but teaching Daryl to write meant he had to touch him. Daryl would sit and Rick would either stand behind him, if his knee was cooperating, or he would sit in another chair and hold Daryl’s hand as he directed him on how to hold the quill or show him the shape of the letters. The contact was supposed to help; it didn’t. 

Daryl thought that after a few weeks he would have gotten used to physically being near Rick. After all, they spent every night together, Rick deep inside him as he begged for more. But the close proximity during the day spoke of a deeper intimacy, a growing trust between them, and it made Daryl’s skin practically vibrate every time Rick came near. It most certainly made learning to write even more difficult, the letters he produced no better than hen scratch. But he kept trying, because Rick encouraged him to do so.

Daryl brought his thoughts back to the present when he realized that the morning was passing by. He could tell by the way the little stream of sun changed through the curtains, but still he didn’t move. He closed his eyes wondering if he might even go back to sleep. He breathed deeply in contentment. It had been a very long time since he’d felt this happy. He’d been a little boy and his mother was still alive, his father wasn’t a drunk, and his brother… Daryl shot up, jerking his body out of Rick’s arms and causing his husband to stir at the movement. 

Merle. He felt hot shame fill his chest like the sludge he’d seen in the streets in the village after a hard rain. It had been a month since he’d moved to the manor, since he’d seen Merle drunk and barely conscious. And other than their wedding day, he hadn’t spared a single thought for his brother. He dropped his head into his hands and tried to stop the tears that threatened.

“Daryl?” Rick’s voice was heavy with sleep, but he felt a warm hand slide up his back in a soothing motion. He lifted his head and turned around to see his husband sitting up beside him. “What’s wrong sweetling?”

Daryl’s chest pulled in an uncomfortable way, emotions warring for the top spot. He loved it when Rick called him that, but the shame at forgetting about Merle was still impossibly strong.

“Nothin’,” he answered, “musta had a bad dream or somethin’.” The lie tasted bitter in his mouth but he needed to process everything that was going through his mind before he brought the subject up with Rick. 

Rick bent toward him and kissed his back, his lips brushing against one of the larger scars and despite the self hatred welling up in his soul, he sighed and relaxed.

“My wild rose,” Rick murmured, “unhappy the sun rose before you, hmm?”

“Somethin’ like that,” Daryl chuckled. Rick had added that to his list of pet names for him, and even though Daryl was reluctant to admit it, it was his favorite. Rick continued to kiss his back, moving from one scar to the next. It had taken Daryl a long time to be comfortable with Rick seeing his back, let alone touching him like this. But Rick understood, better than anyone ever had. And when he touched Daryl like that, like he could heal the scars with just the touch of his lips, Daryl felt cared for. And he loved that feeling. And then he hated himself for wanting that feeling and neglecting his brother in the process.

“I have something I want to do today,” Rick was saying and Daryl focused on his husband.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Rick hummed, “The weather has been cooperative these past few days,” he hedged.

“So the knee’s doin’ alright?”

“It is,” Rick said, kissing along his spine now.

“So what are we doin’ then?”

“You’ll have to wait and see, sweetling.” Daryl could feel that Rick’s lips were turned up in a smile and he felt his own moving upwards in response.

“That ain’t fair,” Daryl grumbled good naturedly. Rick straightened and moved so that his chest was touching Daryl’s back and his arms wrapped around Daryl’s stomach.

“It’s a surprise,” Rick whispered in his ear, rubbing the exposed skin of his belly. The touch drew Daryl’s focus and he looked down. 

It had been a month and he and Rick were going at each other like wolves in heat. He couldn’t help but wonder if he was already pregnant and just wasn’t showing symptoms yet. He put his hands over Rick’s and sighed. 

“Are you worried?” Rick asked, as though he could read his mind and maybe he could.

“Jus’ wonderin’ is all.”

“We’ll know when we know.”

“And if it never happens?” Daryl turned his head so that he could look Rick in the eye. It was a fear he’d never wanted to admit but he couldn’t stop the words from escaping.

“Then it never happens and you and I will grow old and grey together, and we’ll most definitely be better rested.”

“But I thought-”

“And you would be right, but things change. And if it doesn’t happen, then it will be alright. Worrying won’t help, though, sweetling, I can promise you that.” Rick kissed his cheek and removed himself from Daryl’s back to get dressed for the day and Daryl followed suit. 

His mind twisted and turned with too many emotions as he dressed, his body more aware of the movements than his mind. Merle, Rick, baby. Merle, Rick, baby. It was like a voice marching through his ears. It was all too much and he longed to turn back the clock just a few hours so he could have had his time to walk in the misty dawn light, where everything seemed more simple.

A knock at the door announced Aaron bringing breakfast and he and Rick ate quietly. He saw Rick looking at him out of the corner of his eyes, but he didn’t say anything and Daryl was grateful. Rick had a way of just looking at Daryl and it was like he was seeing into his soul. Daryl didn’t know how he was able to do that. How they’d gone from strangers to scared newlyweds to… whatever they were now. Fond of each other? He knew that he felt… something for Rick, he just didn’t know what. Rick wasn’t the same man he’d met in the front of his little ramshackle house. He wasn’t that man that lashed out at him that first week. It didn’t go unnoticed that his husband was different than he’d been then. He was sweet now, patient, even a little unsure at times. And he treated Daryl like he was more than just a space that needed to be filled. 

Daryl wondered if Rick felt anything for him now. He touched him like he did, spoke to him like he did, took him to his bed like he did. The way he was looking at him now, like he was trying to figure out what was going through Daryl’s head but also giving him space at the same time? Someone who had so much consideration for another person had to care. He had to. Didn’t he?

“Daryl?” Rick’s voice broke through his thoughts and he focused on his husband once again. “Are you ready for that surprise now?” Rick reached out and brushed Daryl’s cheek with the back of his knuckles.

“Yeah,” Daryl smiled at him, but it was only a half smile, his earlier thoughts still prominent in his mind. Rick dropped his hand so that he could thread his fingers through Daryl’s and tugged him from the bedroom. 

They made their way slowly out of the west wing of the manor and down the stairs. Rick wasn’t going as slowly as he normally would; the past few days of sunshine doing him more good than Daryl would have thought possible. He wasn’t even using his cane, just leaning a little more into Daryl’s side than he normally would. Daryl was used to the limitations Rick’s injuries caused; he didn’t even have to think about it anymore. He had spent plenty of nights kissing down Rick’s scar on his face before getting to his lips. It was just a part of Rick and Daryl would never change it. 

Was that what love was? He wondered. Accepting the person for who they were and not as they could be? He wondered if Rick liked him the way he was. The only person in his life who had done that had been his mother. Even Merle always said that Daryl was never tough enough, strong enough, could be better. He wondered what Rick saw when he looked at him, if he would change anything. 

_Stop it_, he chided himself and focused on the slow rhythm of Rick’s steps to match them. He made sure to let Rick direct them and soon realized that he was taking him to the rarely used ballroom. The doors and windows were opened and the room had a feeling of a recent cleaning. The space smelled fresh and aired out, like it hadn’t been used in a long time but was prepared for people in a hurry. He saw Eric at the pianoforte in the corner and the valet gave him a smile. Rick led him to the middle of the floor and nodded to Eric, who started playing softly. He grabbed Daryl’s left hand and placed it on his shoulder before he grabbed his right hand. Rick put his empty hand on Daryl’s waist and pulled him close.

“Rick, what’re you doin’?” Daryl barely breathed the question. 

“I realized earlier this week that your education was lacking in this area. I want to take you to London soon. This is mostly a precaution. On the off chance I decide to share you with society, I’d like to show you off in a ballroom.”

Daryl didn’t know what to say to that, his heart was in his throat, both from Rick’s close proximity and the idea of him having to mingle with the people of London society. But then Rick was directing him, teaching him, and leading him around the dance floor. 

The steps didn’t come naturally to Daryl and Rick’s leg was still a little stiff, so they didn’t move exactly gracefully across the floor. Daryl stepped on Rick’s foot and since Rick couldn’t move as quickly, his bad leg would tangle in between Daryl’s. He lost track of how many times they almost fell over but it was Rick and they were laughing and smiling and gazing into each other’s eyes. And eventually, they moved as one to the beat of Eric’s music. 

Daryl didn’t know how long they danced in the ballroom, but after a while, he heard the music slow and soften. Rick slowed their steps until they were barely moving, just swaying gently and not actually dancing at all. Daryl hadn’t really noticed until then, but Rick was just a hair taller than he. And now, as he looked up into Rick’s eyes, his husband leaned down so that their foreheads were touching. They breathed in each other’s space and Daryl swore that time stopped. The earth ceased to move and Daryl knew that he could stay there in Rick’s arms forever. 

He wanted to say it, wanted to open his mouth and find the words to tell his husband that he never wanted to be anywhere else in the world; that no matter what happened, he would stay by his side and they would grow old together; that he was falling in love with him. But he couldn’t. He didn’t know how.

So when his lips parted, he heard himself say, “I need to ask you somethin’.”

Rick pulled back and kissed his forehead and Daryl swore he heard him sigh. “Ask, my wild rose,” he whispered.

“Can I go see my brother?”

Rick looked down at him, tilted his head, and frowned, “I would never stop you from seeing Merle.”

Daryl ducked his head; he didn’t want to bring up that first night. They’d moved past it, but he wouldn’t be asking if it hadn’t happened. He felt Rick’s hand cup the back of his head and push gently so that he laid his head down on Rick’s shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Daryl,” he breathed.

“You ain’t gotta apologize for that anymore.”

“But I-“

Daryl cut him off by jerking his head up and looking Rick in the eye. “No Rick. I mean it. It’s done. It happened but I’m not gonna have you feelin’ guilty for the rest of our lives.” Because I love you, he thought, but wouldn’t say out loud. “I wanted to ask cause… it’s not the only thing I need to ask.”

“Oh?”

“I wanna move Merle out. Somewhere away from our pa. I wanna help him stop drinkin’ and that won’t happen if he stays there.”

“He drinks a lot?”

Daryl nodded, “Tryin’ to forget. Everythin’ he saw in the war.”

“He fought?”

“Yeah, just a foot soldier. But he saw too much and it… it’s hard to forget.”

“Yes, it is,” Rick agreed, and ran his fingers through Daryl’s hair as though he was the way Rick forgot. And he wondered if he did that for his husband, if he made him forget the horrors of his past, if he brought Rick that peace that he knew Merle kept looking for in all the wrong places. And suddenly, he wanted to be. If he wasn’t already, he wanted to be that for Rick. But he had to focus on Merle for the moment.

“Is there… is there a place I can… move him?”

Rick tilted his head again, but in that way that told Daryl he was thinking. “What about your old room?”

“You mean… here… in the manor?” Daryl hadn’t been expecting him to offer that.

“I don’t see why not. There is an empty cottage over on the south side of the property, but we might need to keep a closer eye on him at first.”

Daryl didn’t miss that Rick said “we,” didn’t miss that he was already going out of his way to welcome Merle. And they hadn’t even talked to his brother yet. He laid his head back on Rick’s shoulder and he felt his hand on the back of his head once again. Rick’s fingers trailed through Daryl’s hair in a soothing gesture and Daryl felt his stomach swoop with that feeling of happiness that he was growing more familiar with.

“Thank you, Rick,” he whispered. 

“You are most welcome,” he replied, kissing the top of his head. “My beautiful, wild rose.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So something happened when I posted this chapter, somehow it confused this chapter and Chapter 12 and for a minute they were posted out of order. I think I've fixed it, but if something's still wrong please let me know!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day continues in Daryl's perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was another chapter that gave me some trouble. It actually started out in Rick's POV but it just wasn't working for me, so I went back to Daryl instead. I hope that everyone enjoys it. I am getting close to finding the end of this story; I have 18 chapters planned and anticipate wrapping this up around maybe 20 chapters. 
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with me and showing so much love to this story!
> 
> Trigger warning for throwing up, just in case anyone gets a little queasy.

After their dancing lesson, Rick insisted that they eat something, but also instructed Aaron to ready the carriage for them to visit Merle after they ate. Daryl opened his mouth to protest going so soon; he was worried about Rick’s leg. But his husband was faster and shoved a scone into his mouth just as he opened it. Rick laughed as Daryl coughed and sputtered, the pastry falling apart before he could politely spit it out. He glared as he swallowed but Rick just leaned over and kissed him quickly. Daryl’s stomach swooped in surprise but Rick pulled away before he could reciprocate. And he felt the loss of Rick’s touch, regardless of how brief it was.

“You sure you wanna do this today?” He asked, trying to cover up how badly he wanted Rick to kiss him again.

“I do,” Rick assured him, “I’m actually surprised you haven’t asked about your brother before now.” Rick busied himself with his teacup, but Daryl felt those words settle around him like a heavy yoke. The guilt of forgetting about Merle pressed down on his shoulders with the weight of the entire world. It was so heavy, he couldn’t even hold his head up. He leaned over, dropped his head in his hands, and felt his shoulders roll forward, the way he used to whenever he was trying to protect himself from whatever his father decided to beat him with. “Daryl?” Rick’s voice broke through his thoughts as soon as he noticed. Because of course Rick noticed.

“I forgot,” he replied hoarsely, holding back tears. He raised his head so that he could look his husband in the eye; for all his shame, Daryl was no coward and he would face this mistake head on. “I forgot about my own damn brother.”

“It’s alright,” Rick replied with the reactive response.

“It ain’t,” he countered. He turned to look out the window, as though he could see his old house just outside. “I meant to ask you long ago and I shoulda. But I got,” he flicked his eyes to Rick and back to the window again, “distracted.”

“Oh I distract you, do I?” Rick teased.

Daryl kept his eyes on the window, but he couldn’t help the smirk that pulled his lips up. “Guess you could say that,” he answered evasively. 

“Then I should apologize,” Rick’s tone was suddenly serious and Daryl whipped his head around to see his husband looking contrite. “I had wondered… if you wanted something for your brother. And when you never asked,” he shrugged, “I suppose I forgot as well. You are quite distracting yourself, sweetling.” He reached out and brushed his thumb across Daryl’s cheek and Daryl had to repress a shudder of desire. “I’m sorry, beautiful.”

“That ain’t yet fault, Rick.”

“It doesn’t matter whose fault it is, Daryl,” Rick said, pulling back and all business again. “We both made the mistake and you are upset over it. I get to apologize.”

“If you say so,” Daryl smirked again.

“I do say so,” Rick said sitting up in his chair to act serious. “Finish your lunch and we’ll go get Merle.”

Daryl didn’t reply, just tried to do as Rick asked. But he found he couldn’t. Just the idea of putting more food in his mouth made his stomach turn over in a way he’d never felt before. He took a sip of his tea and found that it helped, but the more he looked at his food, the less he wanted to eat it. He pushed it around his plate to try to hide the fact he wasn’t eating. He didn’t understand, he was usually ravenous no matter which meal it was. He guessed it was just due to nerves and guilt over Merle. Rick finally realized he was no longer eating and reached his hand out to put over Daryl’s before he could push his food around his plate… again.

“Let’s go fetch your brother,” he said, gently. 

He stood immediately and offered Rick his arm. He took it but only leaned slightly against Daryl. And Daryl was grateful for it. He thought maybe he stood up too quickly; he was suddenly dizzy and Rick’s warm weight helped him to stop the world from spinning irregularly. He felt better by the time they made it out the front door and Daryl saw Tyrese already had the carriage ready and was waiting for them.

He and Rick climbed in easily and they set off, riding in companionable silence for the first few minutes. That was one thing he enjoyed about being around Rick, the man didn’t force him to talk. He would wait quietly until he thought of something to say or ask, or he would just wait until Daryl finally said something. But he never forced a conversation and Daryl was so grateful for Rick’s patience. As it was, Rick was looking out the window, with a silly grin on his face and Daryl decided he could break the silence.

“What’re you grinnin’ at?” He demanded to know, with a smile of his own.

“You and I make very clumsy dance partners,” Rick answered and it was not what Daryl was expecting him to say. But his husband was most certainly correct. The two of them had moved as gracefully as blind geese in a hail storm earlier. Then he thought of that moment when Rick’s leg tangled with his own for the third time and they both almost met the floor and his amusement immediately faded into concern.

“‘S not hurtin’ is it? Your leg?”

“Only a little,” Rick smiled. “I’m fine, Daryl.”

But Daryl wasn’t mollified. “You’d tell me though, right? If it was hurtin’?”

“Of course I would, sweetling,” he reached out and brushed the too long bangs from Daryl’s forehead. And Daryl leaned into the touch, no better than a cat wanting attention. 

What was wrong with him today? It had to be because he was so upset about Merle. Rick’s fingers left his skin and he wanted to whimper at the loss of contact but he was able to stop himself just in time. He still had his dignity after all.

They didn’t talk much after that and soon enough, Daryl’s miserable old house came into view. The carriage lurched to a stop and Rick moved to exit first. Daryl shot an arm out and grabbed his husband, a sudden, familiar fear catching his breath in his throat.

“Wait.”

Rick looked at him with wide eyes.

“Gotta make sure he ain’t here,” Daryl whispered and he knew that Rick knew that he was not talking about Merle. Rick nodded and then stuck his head out the window.

“Tyrese? Could you take a look around and see if Will Dixon is on the premises?”

Daryl couldn’t make out every word of the driver’s answer but he could feel him jump down to the ground. Daryl felt his heart pound; he knew that Tyrese could hold his own when the occasion called for it. He just hoped this occasion didn’t require his brute strength. Despite his size, Ty was a gentle man with unlimited patience for unruly horses and for Patrick’s clumsy hands.

Daryl and Rick waited silently but the driver returned quickly.

“He ain’t here, m’lord,” Tyrese informed them softly.

“It’s alright sweetling,” Rick patted his hand and Daryl loosened his grip and let his husband climb carefully from the coach. Daryl followed him closely and wondered briefly why he was letting Rick lead. This used to be his home after all, but that was just Rick. He had a commanding presence that Daryl couldn’t help but follow. Rick rapped politely at the door when he reached it, but no one answered. He knocked one more time before Daryl leaned over his shoulder.

“Just go on in, Rick,” he instructed him quietly. Rick opened the door and went in, Daryl right at his heels. With the skill of an experienced hunter, Daryl’s eyes scanned the room and immediately found his brother. Rick had seen him as well and was already making his way to the immobile lump on Daryl’s old pallet. Panic seized Daryl’s heart at the same time the smell of the run down house seized his nose. Refuse and unwashed bodies stung his nasal passages and jolted right down to his stomach and the slight nausea he felt during lunch suddenly became a real problem.

Daryl spun and ran out the door, barely making it around the corner of the house before he fell to his knees and vomited everything in his stomach. He gasped for breath, coughed, and then heaved again. His mind was in a whirl. He’d smelled worse than that before and he knew that the smell wasn’t what actually caused it, it just tipped him over the edge.

After the third round, he sat back on his ankles and realized that he felt so much better. His stomach wasn’t in knots anymore and the world stayed where it was supposed to. He ran a hand through his hair. He knew he had to get back in there; he could here Rick talking softly to Merle and he couldn’t tell if his brother was responding or not. But he couldn’t move. He had this niggling feeling in the back of his head. Like he was forgetting something. He brought his hand down, rubbed his neck, then brought it further down to rest on his stomach.

And the world fell out from under his feet. 

“Daryl? Are you alright?” Rick’s voice called from out the window, jolting him from his revelation.

“Yeah,” he called back. He wiped his mouth, got slowly to his feet, and tried desperately to control the trembling of his hands. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But he wasn’t fine. And now he knew why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeeeeaaaaaah so that happened and I am not sorry (gives sly smile).


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter today, but a HUGE thank you to the wonderful HelixaHallwood for betaing this chapter and for talking me through it. I could not have written this without her!!!

Will Dixon stumbled up the uneven road that led to his house. He’d been at the pub all morning, drinking away the money he’d made a few days ago off the small deer Merle had managed to bring back. He couldn’t remember the last time he or his son ate, but the liquor in his system made sure he didn’t care. If something happened to him or Merle, he knew it wouldn’t be his fault. It would be Daryl’s. His lips snarled as he thought of that ungrateful little shit. He _still_ couldn’t prove that Daryl wasn’t his. His wife took that secret with her to her grave. Selfish bitch.

He was almost home when he saw a coach stopped in front of his godforsaken house. Despite the liquor coursing through his veins, unjustified anger brought clarity and he immediately knew who it was. He just didn’t know why they were there. So he directed his feet off the road and into the tall grass. He stumbled into a hole and then just decided to stay low to the ground; in his drunken state, it really was safer that way. He crawled up to the house, close enough to see but far enough away to not be seen, just in time to witness Daryl run out the door, turn the corner and vomit. 

He covered his mouth to hide a malicious snigger, taking enjoyment out of watching Daryl heave his fancy breakfast or lunch, or whatever the hell it was, out of his stomach. He hoped that, whatever was wrong with the boy, it was really hurting him. God, he hated that little bastard. Always had. But he hated him even more for marrying that sonofabitch cripple and taking away any income he might have used to drink his days away. Only thing Daryl ever was good for was keeping Will in liquor. Merle wasn’t even half as good, always in a bottle himself, but he managed to come through every now and then.

Will stayed there, crouched in the weeds like a common criminal and relished the hatred coursing through him. He hated that Daryl was comfortable now, hated that he wasn’t there to make up for all the trouble he’d caused Will all his life. But more than anything, he hated that Daryl was no longer in his control. That that cripple, that _Earl_, had taken him away and Daryl could just do whatever he fucking pleased now. Because of that sonofabitch, Will lost the one thing he could control _and_ his steady supply of warmth, food, and liquor.

He sneered when Daryl got up slowly and walked back inside. Little fucker was acting like it was his house and he could just come and go as he pleased. It was _his_ house dammit and he was about to jump from his hiding place and run in there and beat the shit out of both of them for waltzing into his domain. But he stopped when he heard the Earl call out. 

“Tyrese, would you come give us a hand?”

Will crouched back down when he saw the driver walk in the door. There was movement, some shouting that he couldn’t quite understand, and the man came back out _carrying his son_.

Will saw red. The nerve of that fucking man! Coming in and taking his son away. He wanted to go rip the both of them apart but he didn’t move.

Because at his heart, Will Dixon was a coward and that man carrying Merle could bash his skull in before he had time to blink. So he lay in wait. He watched them load Merle into the coach, Daryl and his husband climb in carefully, and the driver get back up in the seat and gather the reins. 

He finally stood when they trundled back down the road. He picked himself up and stumbled into the dirt, going back the way he came. But he wasn’t following the coach. He was going back to the pub. He needed another drink and time to come up with a plan. He wasn’t going to just stand by and let what was rightfully his get taken away again. The Earl of Kent had stolen from him one too many times. And Will was going to make sure he paid for it.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if I thought Chapter 13 was bad, this one was even harder. I literally just finished writing it. The biggest thank you in the whole world goes out to HelixaHallwood, because this chapter would not exist without her help. This particular POV was her idea and I hope that you'll enjoy.
> 
> Got some trigger warnings for today: alcoholism, withdrawal, detoxing and all the symptoms that come with it. That being said, I've never been through alcohol withdrawal or detoxing with anything, so WebMD was the research here and I hope it's accurate.
> 
> And now without further ado, I give you Merle

The first time, Merle came to, the ground was rocking under him. It took a great effort to open his eyes. Every part of him ached, he was covered in sweat, and he was shaking.

“Merle?” He could hear his brother’s voice coming from somewhere above him, but he couldn’t find him. “Merle!” Daryl sounded scared and the only time he sounded like that was when he was being beaten within an inch of his life by their old man.

“You s-s-stay away from ‘im,” he slurred, before he rolled over and threw up the meager contents of his stomach. He was barely finished before he passed out again.

——— 

The second time Merle regained consciousness, he was actually able to open his eyes all the way. He saw Daryl hovering over him and was immediately panicked and annoyed. The kid had no business coming back to their shithole of a house.

“What’re you doin’ here, baby brother?”

“I live here Merle,” Dary smirked down at him. Merle lifted his hand to push at the corner of Daryl’s mouth, as though he was going to wipe the expression off his face. His hand shook as he did it but Daryl fell backwards with exaggeration and the two brothers laughed weakly at each other.

“Yer husband done get tireda ya?”

“Not yet,” Daryl chuckled.

Merle’s hand fell back down on the bed and he realized that it was much softer than Daryl’s old pallet. He had to be laying on a feather mattress. “This bed ain’t mine,” he complained and Daryl rolled his eyes.

“I know Merle, you’re not at Pa’s house anymore.”

“Then where the fuck am I?” Merle’s voice got louder with every word but he couldn’t control it. The shaking was hard to control and he felt like he was going to vomit again.

“Easy, brother, easy,” Daryl soothed in a soft voice. He pulled a cloth out of a bowl, wrung out the excess water, and put it on Merle’s forehead. The cool water made him realize just how warm the rest of him was. He was too warm and he was sweating all over. “I’m sorry Merle,” Daryl was saying, “I’m so sorry.”

Merle was going to reply, was going to tell his baby brother to shut the hell up, that whatever he was sorry for wasn’t his fault. But the blackness claimed him again and he lost sight of Daryl’s face above him. 

——— 

The… whatever time it was that Merle woke up, he couldn’t keep track anymore, it wasn’t Daryl that was sitting on his bedside. It was some old, white-haired man that he’d never seen before. He jerked away from the man but it hurt to move, everything hurt and he would have literally killed for drink in that moment.

“It’s alright, son,” the man said gently, “you’re going through the worst of it right now.” He reached over to put a cloth on his head, but Merle knew he couldn’t handle another piece of fabric grating against his skin.

“Get the fuck offa me!” The man backed away immediately, but a voice on Merle’s other side caught his attention.

“‘S alright Merle. Just relax.”

Merle turned and saw Daryl sitting on the bed, leaning over him. His face swam in and out of focus. He could tell that someone else was behind Daryl but he just couldn’t quite see who.

“Daryl?” He managed to grind out as a particularly violent tremor wracked his body.

“Merle!”

“It’s all right, son,” the old man said, “he just has to go through it. It’ll pass soon.”

“I’m so sorry Merle,” Daryl was sobbing over and over. Merle wanted to comfort his brother, but even if he was in any shape to do so, he didn’t know how. 

“What do we do now?” A different voice asked. It came from behind Daryl, but Merle still couldn’t bring the man into focus. He had a steady voice, calm, soothing even.

“We just have to wait the symptoms out,” the old man said.

“How long will that take?” Daryl asked angrily.

“I don’t know,” was the reply and Merle moaned out loud. The pain in his head was growing worse and they weren’t helping. “There’s no cure for this. He’ll probably struggle to stay away from the bottle for the rest of his life.”

A bottle, Merle thought, god what he wouldn’t give for a bottle of anything. Any kind of liquor would be welcome. Or water. Or food. Nope scratch the food. He was able to roll on his side and vomit once more, but it was nothing but bile. His body had nothing more to give and he didn’t know how much more he could take.

“Just hang in there, brother,” Daryl’s voice pleaded, “you can do this. I’ve got everything worked out. A place for you to go, away from Pa. A job to keep you busy. Rick even knows about what you’ve been through, what you’ve seen. He’s gonna help too.” _Who the fuck is Rick_, Merle wondered. “You can do this without drownin’ yourself in a bottle, Merle. Please. Please.”

A tremor shook him and sweat covered his body. He was in agony, but so was his brother. His baby brother who deserved better than the sorry hand of life he’d been dealt, who’d put up with so much shit from their shitty excuse for a father, who’d taken care of Merle so much more than Merle’d ever taken care of him. His baby brother, who wanted him to do better, to be better. 

“Daryl,” he slurred out, his tongue felt so heavy in his mouth. But he had to tell him that he wanted to change, to be so much more than he had ever been before.

“I’m here, Merle, I’m here.” He felt Daryl take his hand and grip it so tightly it hurt.

“Promise-”

“I promise,” Daryl cut in.

“No,” he groaned and shook his head, which was a mistake. He cried out at the pain, but he forced himself to open his eyes and look at his brother. Daryl had to understand, he had to make sure he understood. His face was blurry but Merle forced himself to focus. “No more. I promise ya, baby brother. I won’t… drink ‘nother drop. Wanna do… righ’... by you.” It was so hard to get the words out, but he had to, he had to promise. 

“You already have,” Daryl choked out, his face was shiny, little drops of light sliding down his face. “Is there any way we can make him more comfortable?” Daryl sounded so desperate.

“I know of a few things that should help,” the old man offered. ”If one of you would come to the village with me, I’ll send you back with what he’ll need. I don’t think you’ll need me again tonight but I’ll come back first thing in the morning.”

“Fine,” Daryl sounded determined, loudly determined. Merle clutched his head, trying to rub away the pain. “Let’s go.”

“Daryl, wait,” the calm voice begged, “I can go.”

“No, Rick, you’ve been all over today. I don’t want you to hurt yourself even more. I’ll go, you stay here. Stay with my brother. Please.”

Even through his pain, his delirium, Merle knew he’d never heard Daryl sound like that, pleading, yet tender. His voice was full of… love. Now I really need some liquor, Merle thought.

“Alright, my wild rose, I’ll stay. You’ve nothing to worry about. I won’t leave his side for a moment.”

_Fanfuckin’tastic_, Merle thought. Or did he say it out loud. It didn’t matter; he couldn’t care about anything past his continued agony.

“I’ll be back soon,” Daryl assured them, just before he succumbed to the darkness once more.

——— 

When Merle woke up again, his head was a bit clearer, the pain a bit duller. His whole body still ached and shook and stank of sweat, but he was much more coherent. Enough so that he could see the man sitting in a chair beside the bed. And that it was not Daryl.

“Who’re you?” The man was looking out the window but as soon as Merle spoke, he turned his full attention to him.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

“Yeah, no shit. Who the fuck’re you?”

The man chuckled lowly. “I’m Rick, Daryl’s husband. It’s nice to finally meet you Merle.” He moved a little closer to the bed and put the back of his hand to Merle’s forehead.  
“How are you feeling?”

“Like I haven’t had a drink in days. How tha fuck you think I’m feelin’?”

Rick chuckled again, settling back in the chair, “I suppose that was a stupid question.”

“Figured you’d be brighter than that _Lord Grimes_.”

“Happy to see you remember that your brother married an earl,” the words were biting but he was smirking playfully.

Merle howled with laughter, or howled as loudly as he dared. His head still wasn’t the best. “Yer a cheeky sonofabitch ain’tcha, Rick?” He dropped the title and the sarcasm this time.

“So I’ve been told,” he answered, nodding.

“Yeah? My baby brother call you out on yer shit?”

“Daily,” Rick admitted. 

“You good with that? Some boy younger’n you tellin’ you what ta do?”

Rick tilted his head considering, not only Merle’s question but also the change in his tone. “What are you asking me, Merle?”

“You treatin’ my brother right, Rick? Cause he’s had enough shit from our pa to last a lifetime. I don’t want him go from a abusive pa to a abusive husband. You seen his scars right?”

“Yes, I have,” Rick said in a strangled whisper. 

“Then you know he deserves more than that.”

“He deserves everything,” Rick breathed out. 

“You gonna give him that? You gonna give him everything?”

“I sure as hell am going to try.” And he looked so serious, so sincere that Merle smiled, even though it hurt.

“Yeah, I think you’ll do right by Daryl.” He shuffled his aching body around on the feather bed, trying to find a comfortable position. But he soon realized that it was a waste of time. There was too much pain, too much sensitivity. So he turned back to Rick. “So where is my baby brother anyway? Shouldn’t he be sittin’ here at my sick bed?”

Rick laughed at him again. “I suppose you weren’t fully coherent earlier. He left earlier with the doctor. He’ll be bringing back some things to should help with some of your symptoms.”

“He left?” Merle asked, concern spiking through his aching head. “W-where’d they go?”

“The apothecary’s I believe,” Rick responded, unaware of Merle’s sudden panic.

“In the village?”

“Of course.”

Merle tried to take a deep breath. He wanted to ask what time it was, what day it was. Because the last time he saw his old man, the bastard was weaving his way down the road back to the pub and he wasn’t sure how long ago that had been. But he suddenly realized that it didn’t matter. Bastard was in the village pub more than he was at home. And it wasn’t like that village was huge; if Daryl was wandering around the streets, with only the doctor for company, Will might see him. And if their pa saw him, it would not end well for Daryl.

“You gotta-” his breath was coming in gasps now, worry quickly melting into terror, “you gotta go get him. You can’t leave him out there by hisself!”

“Merle,” Rick moved closer to the bed, “easy, easy, I’m sure Daryl’s fine.”

“No, Rick, you don’t understand.” He reached up a shaking hand and grabbed Rick by his shirt and pulled him closer. “Ever since you whisked Daryl away to live up here, the ol’ man’s been drinkin’ worse, he stays at the pub more’n his own damn house. You gotta go get Daryl. Bastard said he’d kill you ‘r Daryl if he ever laid eyes on ya again. You gotta go get my baby brother and you gotta go now!” 

He watched the color drain out of Rick’s scarred face when he realized how serious Merle was. And he was serious. Their old man didn’t make idle threats and Daryl’s back was the damn proof of it. And by the look on his face now, Rick knew it.

“Go, Rick,” Merle let him go with as hard of a push as he could manage, “go get my brother.”

He wanted to crawl out of that bed and go get Daryl himself, but he was in too much pain. So he settled with watching the Earl of Kent scramble for his cane and limp out the door as fast as he possibly could. Because they both knew the damage that Will Dixon could do. And they knew Daryl wasn’t safe until he was home with his husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So next week we come to the climax and not the good kind. I will update the tags and put a summary of the chapter in the end notes. I wanted to go ahead and warn everyone now but remember that I'm in the business of happy endings only.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok everyone, this is it, the big climax and I feel like I need to give some warnings here, I will also update the tags and put a detail of the scene in the end notes. We've got descriptions of violence, major character injury, and villain death. I've had two people read this chapter and both said it was a tear jerker. Again, remember that I am in the business of happy endings only and that there is no supernatural magic here, just the overwhelming power of true love.
> 
> Just a little fyi, the very beginning of this scene overlaps with the very end of the last chapter.

Aaron was walking to the front door of the manor, an action he’d already done at least five times in the past few hours. He felt anxious for reasons he couldn’t explain. He wasn’t sure if it was their new houseguest or the fact that Master Daryl had been gone for several hours, when Aaron really thought he should have been back by now. It didn’t help that it started raining an hour ago, ominous clouds covering the late sunshine and releasing a punishing rain.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much more for him to do in the house. The linens for Daryl’s brother had been gathered and taken to the room; fresh water had been delivered; and Carol was waiting on Olivia to finish a pot of bone broth to take to him. The thought of the Earl spoon feeding his husband’s brother brought a wry smile to his face. But as entertaining as that thought was, he was still left with too much energy and not a lot to do. So he’d taken to wandering the manor and always ended up sticking his head out the front door to check for any sign of Daryl, or even the doctor despite being told the man wouldn’t return until morning.

He was almost to the front door yet again, when a pounding on the other side of it stopped him in his tracks. He wasn’t sure who it could be. Daryl would not bother to knock, mostly likely not even bother to use the front door; and the doctor knew he could just come on in. Normally, Aaron would have waited to inform Rick before opening the door at this time of night, but with the events of the day, it could be important. So without any further thought, he strode to the door and wrenched it open.

And jumped about a foot out of his skin when he saw Will Dixon, wet, drunk, and absolutely furious, the pounding of the rain loud and dangerous behind him.

“Where is he!” He slurred and surged forward, tripping over the threshold but catching himself before he could fall hard on the entryway floor.

“Where is who?” Aaron asked guardedly, having no idea how to proceed, but backing away all the same.

“That ignorant son of a bitch-” Aaron still didn’t know who Will was going on about but a loud voice stopped him from clarifying.

“Dixon!” The Earl suddenly appeared at the top of the staircase landing, white as the table linens but still forceful and imposing.

“You!” Dixon roared and swayed drunkenly before pulling a dagger from his belt and rushed forward and started running up the stairs as fast as his impaired feet would go.

“No!” Aaron didn’t even think, he scrambled after the fiend and was able to pull him down by an ankle when he reached the middle landing of the staircase. Will Dixon crashed to the stairs under him and twisted back to slash at Aaron with his rusted blade. Aaron dodged but felt the tip sting across the palm of his hand when he tried to protect himself. Feet thundered from above him and Aaron saw the Earl grab Dixon by the scruff of his neck. But Rick wasn’t the man he used to be and as he tried to pull the crazed man away from his loyal butler, he couldn’t support the moving weight. He fell backwards, his back colliding with the stairs and Aaron winced at his cry of pain. Dixon fell with him, screaming obscenities and threats and Aaron grabbed at his slashing arms even though he himself was bleeding. It was chaos; Aaron doing all he could to get Dixon off his lord and oldest friend, Will hell bent on revenge and murder that only a drunken mind could conceive, and Rick doing his best to prevent the man from sinking the blade into his heart. Aaron could feel Rick’s strength starting to fade when a loud voice cut through their screams and bounced around the room.

“Stop!” 

Aaron chanced a moment to turn his head and saw Daryl, dripping wet, run through the doorway towards the three of them. His grip on Dixon’s arm faltered at the same moment that Rick turned his focus on his husband. But Will Dixon didn’t care about the sudden appearance of his son. Taking advantage of both Rick and Aaron’s distraction, he sank the knife into Rick’s side, just under his ribs. Rick gasped in pain and his eyes widened as Dixon howled in victory. A sound that was very short lived.

Daryl reached them just as Will pulled the knife from Rick’s body. Aaron heard Daryl cry out in agony and disbelief and then he was shoved aside as Daryl wrapped his hands around his father’s throat.

Aaron wasn’t sure, could never be sure, exactly what it was that killed Will Dixon. Daryl could have easily broken his neck as he yanked him away from his beloved husband. It could have been the fall to the bottom of the steps that ended his life. But whatever it was, Aaron found he couldn’t make himself care past the fact that he was dead. 

By then, the entire household had heard the commotion and was gathered at the foot of the stairs and around the body, but Aaron only had eyes for the men on the ground at his feet. After Daryl managed to pull his father from Rick, he immediately sank to the floor and cradled Rick in his arms as Rick bled profusely from the wound in his side.

“Rick,” Daryl sobbed, “oh god, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He tried to hold his husband and staunch the flow of blood at the same time. Soon they were both covered in blood, Daryl’s hands a grotesque red.

“Daryl,” Rick grabbed one of his flailing hands and Aaron was shocked at how weak the Earl already sounded, “stop. It’s alright. It’s alright.”

“No! You’re gonna be fine.” He turned away from Rick for only a minute, “Someone go get the doctor!” And then he turned back around, so focused on Rick the house could have caught fire and he wouldn’t have noticed. “You’ll see, Rick. You’re gonna be fine.”

“Maybe,” Rick coughed and grimaced in pain, “maybe it’s better this way.”

“Don’t say that, don’t you dare say that Rick. I can’t live without you.”

“Yes you can, my wild rose,” he brought his hand up with what had to be the last ounce of strength he possessed and cupped Daryl’s cheek, “I’m just so happy that you… that you… agreed… to be mine… for however… brief a time,” he coughed again, curling in on himself and Daryl held him tighter, ran his hand through Rick’s unruly hair.

“Rick, please, don’t leave me.”

Aaron thought his heart was breaking, shattering into a thousand pieces as he watched the light fade from Rick’s eyes, his hand start to slip from Daryl’s face. Daryl caught it before it hit the floor and intertwined their fingers together. 

“Rick please,” he sobbed and Aaron felt his own tears fall down his face, “please.” And as Aaron saw Rick’s eyes begin to close, he heard Daryl whisper, “I love you.” He might as well have shouted it; the whole house was silent but for Daryl’s quiet confession and the sound of Rick’s last breath. Daryl watched as the seconds ticked by, but Rick’s chest did not rise again. Aaron couldn’t bring himself to move as he watched Daryl collapse on top of Rick’s body. There were no words to describe the utter grief that was pulled from the young man’s soul and Aaron realized for the first time, that if a broken heart had a sound… this was it. 

Nobody moved. Aaron wasn’t even sure if any of the other staff even breathed. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Daryl’s back which was heaving every time he screamed out his grief. Daryl gasped, his throat ragged, as he tried to get his breath back and Aaron was afraid he would hyperventilate. He finally moved, he had no idea how many seconds had passed. It could have been an eternity, but he had to get Daryl to move. There were things that had to be done and Aaron had to do something. If he stood there much longer, he knew he would break.

“Daryl,” he put a hand on his back, “Daryl… he’s gone,” Aaron choked on the last word.

“But we’re gonna have a baby,” Daryl said and Aaron didn’t know if he was replying to his words or if he was actually telling Rick. It didn’t matter though, because if Aaron thought his heart was already broken, he was wrong. With one last shuddering breath, Daryl lifted his head from Rick’s chest and pressed his lips to Rick’s forehead. “I promise you, Rick, you ain’t gotta worry about nothin’ now. I’ll take care of our baby, I promise. I love you,” he said again. He pressed his forehead against Rick’s and started to pick himself up to begin carrying out his promise.

But a gasping breath shattered the silence and Aaron looked up in time to see Rick’s hand shoot out to grab Daryl’s arm.

“Rick!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Dixon goes to the manor and tries to attack Rick. Aaron tries to stop him and while the three struggle, Daryl comes back from the village. His arrival distracts both Aaron and Rick and Will takes advantage and stabs Rick in the side. Daryl pulls Will away and throws him off the stairs; he dies. Daryl and Rick are able to exchange a few words before Rick dies in his arms, but a few seconds later, Rick breathes again, basically coming back from the dead. But in the end, RICK DOES NOT DIE.


	18. Chapter 18

Daryl moved faster than he ever had in his life. He ripped his shirt off and pressed it to Rick’s still bleeding wound. He looked over his shoulder, his heart wrenching in his chest it hurt so much to take his eyes off Rick. “Somebody better be gettin’ the goddamn doctor,” he screamed, his voice hoarse and hurting.

“Daryl,” Rick whispered and he jerked back around to give his full attention to his husband. His husband who had just come back from the dead.

“I’m here, Rick, I’m here.” Daryl brushed a gentle kiss against Rick’s forehead and then moved to put his arms under Rick’s body but Aaron grabbed his arm in a vice like grip.

“No, Daryl. The baby… let Tyrese-“ he turned to call for the man but he was already there.

“I’ll be gentle, I promise,” Tyrese knelt down so they were eye level, “but we gotta get him off the stairs. Patrick’s gone for the doctor.” 

Daryl didn’t want to let anyone else touch his husband; it wasn’t that he didn’t trust Tyrese, but he knew he could move Rick and the injured man would barely feel a thing. But then he felt Aaron’s hand tighten on his arm, a feat he didn’t think was possible, and he remembered that he was pregnant and lifting Rick’s weight would not be good for the baby. So, with every nerve screaming at him to not let go of his husband, he shuffled away. Tyrese knelt down, and with infinite gentleness, lifted Rick into his arms and made his way up the stairs. Daryl was close on his heels, his heart pounding whenever it remembered to beat. 

Movement flurried around him, but all he could focus on was Rick, bleeding and clinging to life by the barest of threads. Tyrese laid him in his bed and Daryl crawled in on the other side, every movement calculated so as to not hurt his husband anymore. He sat as close as he dared and saw Rick’s cloudy blue eyes following him.

“Daryl,” he whispered and, god, he sounded so weak. But like the stubborn mule he was, he tried to lift his hand. Daryl caught it before he could use too much of his strength, giving his husband what he so obviously wanted.

“I’m here, Rick, I’m right here.”

His eyes closed at the contact of their hands and Daryl’s eyes immediately went to his chest, which rose and fell in little shallow breaths. One, two, breathe, Daryl counted. One, two, breathe. One, two, three. His heart forgot to beat. Breathe. Daryl choked out a sob but kept his eyes on Rick’s chest.

“Master Daryl?” He heard Aaron’s voice, but he couldn’t comprehend it, couldn’t understand what he was doing there. “Daryl.” Aaron touched his arm this time, but he still couldn’t take his eyes from Rick’s chest. “Daryl, please, you’re shivering. We need to get you out of those wet clothes.” Daryl finally turned to face the butler and realized that he was right; he was trembling all over, gooseflesh covered his skin, and he was wet and freezing. “This isn’t good for the baby,” he added seriously. Just then, Eric appeared on the other side of the bed, moving a chair so close that he could sit and hold Rick’s other hand at the same time.

“Go change Daryl,” Eric said gently, but in a tone that said he really shouldn’t argue, “I’ll not leave his side for a moment. You need to get dry and warm. Not just for the baby, but for Rick as well. You won’t be any help to him if you become sick.” He explained all of this as though he was speaking to a particularly difficult child. Aaron wrapped a hand around Daryl’s arm and pulled. He went reluctantly, so reluctantly, but Aaron was right and he knew it. He trusted Eric to watch Rick. Even though he would much prefer to do it himself, if he caught cold now, it would not be good for the baby and if he lost Rick… 

No. He stopped himself from finishing that thought. Because he’d already lost Rick but his husband came back to him. Rick came back. Those were the words he forced himself to remember as Aaron pulled him into the dressing room and started peeling his wet clothes from his body. His shivers were turning into full body shakes and his teeth chattered as the cold fully set in.

“I have Tyrese building the fire in his lordship’s room,” Aaron told him as he ran a dry towel all over Daryl’s body. Normally, he would have been apprehensive standing there naked in front of someone who wasn’t Rick, but he just couldn’t find the strength to care. Aaron dried him quickly and methodically, until every inch of him was dry. Then he pulled a warm muslin shirt over his head and helped him into trousers. As soon as he was clothed again, he ran back into Rick’s room, crawled back onto the bed beside his husband, and forgot everything else around him. 

Rick was still bleeding, but it had slowed to a small trickle and he was still breathing. Daryl watched his chest rise and fall. One, two, breathe; one, two, breathe; one, two, breathe. Each breath was shallow and weak, but they were still breaths, going in and out of Rick’s body. The proof that Daryl so desperately needed that his husband was still alive. 

He didn’t know how long he sat there, holding Rick’s hand and watching him breathe. His whole world was reduced to making sure Rick lived from one minute to the next. What he would do if his husband stopped breathing again, he had no idea, but he knew he would have to do something. Because watching Rick die again was not an option. Because it was his fault that he’d been stabbed in the first place.

As soon as he allowed that thought to consciously surface, he lost what little control he had. Sobs ripped through his chest, burning every inch of him inside out. But he relished the pain, he deserved it.

“Daryl!” It was Eric’s voice. Eric, who hadn’t gone far once Daryl came back from getting dressed. Eric, who had become a friend he could count on. He climbed on the bed beside Daryl, being just as careful to not jostle Rick. He pulled Daryl into his arms and Daryl went willingly, still holding on to Rick’s hand with his own. Eric held him as he cried, making soothing shushing sounds to try to get him to calm down. 

There was a part of his mind that was aware that Aaron was back in the room, that he and Eric were having a full conversation over his head.

“Breathe,” Eric murmured in his ear, “just breathe.”

“‘S my fault,” Daryl choked out.

“Daryl, no-” Aaron started, but he couldn’t let him finish.

“It’s my fault!” He pressed, enunciating every word to make sure they understood. But he kept his face buried in Eric’s shirt so that he didn’t have to see their faces. “He wanted me to stay here, wanted to go to the village with the doctor. But I made him stay. I thought I was… pregnant. But I didn’t wanna tell him till the doc looked me over. ‘S why I wanted to go. If I’dda stayed here-”

“Daryl, no,” this time Aaron’s voice was much gentler and Daryl looked up at him. “You cannot play that game with yourself. If anything, it’s my fault, because I let your father in. I opened the door-”

“You didn’t know!” Daryl insisted.

“And neither did you,” Aaron said logically. “To be honest, when your father showed up, I don’t think he even cared who he hurt, as long as he caused as much pain as possible. He was drunk, not making sense. He didn’t care if it was Rick, you, hell he might have been happy killing Merle for all I know.” It was the first time he’d ever heard Aaron curse and it shocked him to his core. To hear the straight laced butler become so emotional that he forgot to check his language. “Daryl, I promise you, this is not your fault. The only blame can be placed at the feet of your father. And he’s paid the price for it. Now it is time to concentrate on Rick and the baby. You must take care of yourself, rest and eat well, to make sure the babe is well taken care of too.”

“Merle-”

“You’re not to worry about your brother. We’re taking it in turns. Carol is with him now, helping him eat some broth. I believe he was particularly adamant that he not be spoon fed like an infant,” Aaron finished with a small smile.

“Sounds like Merle,” Daryl replied thickly.

“He is fine, I promise you. Stay with Rick. I know that he came back, but Daryl-”

“It’s no guarantee,” he finished for him, his face crumpling and more tears streaming down his face. 

——— 

The doctor came, stitched the wound in Rick’s side, and put a salve on it. Daryl barely heard a word he said; he couldn’t get past the grim look the man had on his face. Aaron arranged for the carriage to take him back to his practice to gather all the supplies he needed and he returned before the end of the night. Aaron then set him up in Daryl’s room and Daryl was incredibly grateful for his close proximity. 

As it was, he refused to leave Rick’s side. He ate when Aaron forced him to eat, stood up and walked around when the doctor insisted, but otherwise his full attention was on his husband. Rick barely stirred when the doctor put the stitches in. There were times when he mumbled and twitched in his sleep, but otherwise he didn’t move. The doctor didn’t say much about his lack of consciousness, but Daryl could tell he was concerned.

Daryl barely slept that night. By daybreak, Rick’s body was trembling with fever and drenched in sweat. The doctor was able to force some herbs down him, but he still remained unconscious. Daryl was able to coax water down his throat, a few drops a time. But it was better than nothing. Aaron and Eric came and went; the doctor checked him every hour; Daryl even managed to sleep a few minutes at a time. But he kept his vigil.

Whenever he was alone with Rick, he would talk to him. Tell him how much he loved him. How he wished he’d said it sooner. He talked about the day before, when Rick taught him to dance, how wonderful he made Daryl feel, waltzing in his arms. He talked about the baby. How the doctor guessed that he was about a month pregnant, suggesting that Rick did actually get him knocked up on the first go. But he also made sure to tell his unconscious husband that the doctor said that everything looked and felt normal. That the morning sickness would most likely pass. How the man had told Daryl what would happen to his body and when to expect those things.

“I’m tellin’ you, Rick,” he said at one point, “if my feet swell up so much I can’t wear my shoes, I’m not leavin’ this house. I may be tough, but I ain’t walkin’ around outside barefoot.” Then he laughed and wiped more tears from his face. “Look at me, just a month with you and you’ve already spoiled me. So I need you to keep on livin’ Rick, cause we gotta spoil this baby too. Please, Rick, please. I love you so much.” And then he laid his head down so that it was barely resting on his husbands chest, his tears falling down and soaking Rick’s shirt.

The day crept on and the sun went down and still the Earl of Kent did not stir. Carol came and brought Daryl food and gave him an update on Merle, who was improving but begging everyone in the house to bring him a drink. Daryl rolled his eyes at that before thanking Carol for putting his brother in his place. She gave him a small smile, patted his shoulder and left to make sure Merle stayed out of trouble.

There was too much going on and the mantra that played in his head (god only yesterday?) began again. _Merle, Rick, baby, Merle, Rick, baby_. Only now they weren’t theoretical concerns. All three of them were immediate and very real terrors in his heart that he couldn’t control. 

He knew, logically, that Merle would most likely make a full recovery. He might struggle, he might fall off the wagon in the future. But he would live. He knew there was a chance he could lose the baby, people miscarried all the time. But he also knew that right now the baby was completely in his control and as long as he took care of himself, there was no reason why he couldn’t deliver a healthy child.

But Rick… Rick was different. Rick had already died in his arms and could do so again and Daryl didn’t know what he would do if the love of his life ceased to breathe. _I should have told him_, he berated himself for the thousandth time. Should have told him that he loved him. There had been so many opportunities. The day Rick started teaching him to read. The dozens of nights they made love in that very bed. As they danced in each other’s arms. So many times he missed. And now he wasn’t even sure Rick heard him whenever he confessed his unending love. But he continued to say it, over and over again, when they were alone. It felt like he could never say it enough, there would never be a time again in their lives that he wouldn’t be able to say those words to his husband.

The day ended and Daryl was exhausted. The doctor tried to convince him to sleep in his own bed. To which Daryl growled that he was in his bed, and no more was said on the subject. The clock struck midnight before Daryl finally succumbed to the exhaustion. He laid down next to Rick and watched his chest rise and fall in the low candlelight.

“I wish you were awake, Rick,” he whispered, his eyes straining to stay open, “so I could put your hand on my stomach, like you did yesterday. But now we’d know. We’d know that there was a baby in there. And it wants you to be alright. I need you to be alright. I love you, Rick. Now and always, I’ll love you.” And with his last whispered promise, Daryl finally lost the battle and fell asleep.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot say thank you enough to the wonderful, fantastic HelixaHallwood for betaing this chapter and for helping me work through this chapter with some top notch advice!  
You may have noticed that there is an end number of chapters now. Next week will be it y'all and I'd like to say thank you to everyone who took time to read this story, leave kudos, and all of your wonderful comments.  
And now I bring you a little bit of angst but lots of fluff and love. Happy Readings!

When Rick opened his eyes, he felt like he was seeing the world for the first time. Everything was bright and beautiful; the sun streaming through his windows illuminated the life he almost lost. Pain radiated from his side out through his whole body, reminding him that death was still trying to grab his hand and pull him back under. He moved his hand away from the pressure of it, the fear of it dragging him down again clutching his heart.

But the grip wouldn’t loosen, so Rick chanced a look down at his hand. And saw a real flesh and blood hand in his, not the bony claw of death he’d felt ever since Will Dixon sank that blade into his body. His eyes trailed down the hand, up the arm, and to the face of his young husband, who was sound asleep next to Rick. And god, there was not a lovelier sight than Daryl sleeping peacefully by his side. His mouth was slightly open, a little puddle of drool on the pillow under him. His soft little snores filled the otherwise quiet room. Rick took a shuddering breath as memories flooded his mind, but he wasn’t sure if they were memories or dreams. Daryl’s voice resounded in his mind, whispering “I love you,” painting fantastical pictures with soft spoken words. Pictures that Rick was trying desperately to hold on to. But they were only dreams. He’d only dreamt Daryl was pregnant. Hadn’t he? 

And as overjoyed as he would be if Daryl were pregnant, all he could feel now was the joy of simply being _alive_. He was here, he was breathing, watching his beautiful husband sleep by his side. They were going to have more days together. And if he could move without the pain, he would have danced around the room in celebration. As it was, he settled with simply _looking_ at Daryl. 

His husband’s face was the only thing he looked for after Will Dixon tried to end his life. He had known it was happening, known he was taking his last breaths, and when Daryl’s face swam above his, he thought that maybe God did answer the prayers of dying men after all. But he’d wanted more; more minutes to see him, more days to be by his side, more nights to lie with him. More opportunities to tell him how much he loved him. He just remembered wanting so much _more_.

So he pulled his way back into the world with every ounce of strength he had. Pulled his soul away from death and back into the arms of Daryl. Which was where it belonged. And now he was perfectly content to watch his beloved husband sleep. To just see him again was such a privilege, Rick could barely begin to send up his prayers of gratitude.

As he looked, memorizing every inch of Daryl’s face, he realized how exhausted his husband looked, even in sleep. He sighed as silently as he could. How long had Daryl sat awake by his side? How many hours of sleep had he denied himself? How many meals? It reminded him of that first night, after he’d been thrown from his horse. And how he woke to find that Daryl had stayed by his side, eating only when Aaron made him, sleeping only when he could no longer stay awake.

He frowned a little when he realized he had no idea how long Daryl had been by his side, no idea how long he’d been away from the land of the living. He hadn’t the faintest idea what day it was, wasn’t even really sure what day Dixon had shown up at his home to put a dagger in him.

He wanted to let Daryl sleep longer, but not knowing what day was dawning was beginning to eat at him. He opened his mouth to say Daryl’s name, but only a dry rasp escaped. Daryl stirred at the noise but did not wake. He tried to tug his hand from Daryl’s, but the younger man just held on tighter.

“Leave me ‘lone, Aaron,” he mumbled in his sleep and Rick started to chuckle silently at the thought of his butler trying to separate the two of them. It must have been something that had happened before and even in his sleep, Daryl was having none of it. So instead of letting go, Rick squeezed his hand tightly.

This was the movement that finally pulled Daryl from his slumber. He shot up from his prone position and was suddenly wide awake, his deep blue eyes snapping to Rick’s, full of love, hope, and promise. 

“Rick,” he breathed. He looked down at their intertwined hands and Rick gave another squeeze, hoping to reassure the man he loved. To tell him without words that he was there, that he was alive, and that he was never leaving him again. Rick lifted his other hand with all the strength he had, reached up to touch Daryl’s face. The touch made Daryl’s head jerk back up. Rick cupped his cheek and Daryl closed his eyes at the contact, tears escaping and rolling down his cheeks. “I’m dreamin’ right?”

He traced his thumb across Daryl’s damp cheek. _No_, he wanted to say, _no my wild rose, you are most certainly not dreaming_. But he was in dire need of water and was in too much pain to move.

“Daryl,” he managed to croak out. Daryl’s eyes flew open and Rick gave him a small sad smile. He hated that something as mundane as a drink of water could prevent everything he wanted to say. “Water,” it came out so strangled, he was surprised that Daryl was able to understand it. But he did.

“Oh, shit,” he let go of Rick’s hand reluctantly and slid off the bed. Rick followed his every movement as he walked around the end of the bed and over to the side. He poured a glass full and knelt on the floor, pressing up against the bed, as close to Rick as he could possibly get. “Don’t chyou dare try to sit up this time,” he grumbled and Rick had to smile when Daryl put the glass to his lips. “Go slow.” He did as he was told, or at least he tried to. That first sip of water felt more like the breath of life. He wanted to drink the whole thing in one go, but Daryl wasn’t going to let him. He pulled the glass away and set it down. He stayed where he was and brushed Rick’s flyaway curls away from his forehead. “Better?”

“Yes,” he whispered, not really sure how loud he could make his voice go. “How long?”

“Almost two days,” Daryl whispered back, the fear so clear in his eyes. “Rick… you died. You died in my arms and I-” but he couldn’t finish. The tears flowed freely and sobs escaped his mouth, no matter how hard his dear husband tried to hold them back. Rick reached for him again, looped his hand loosely around the back of his neck and pulled him to his chest. It hurt, everything hurt, but damn the pain when he was able to hold Daryl. 

“Shh,” he whispered, “I’m here now. I’m not leaving you. For as long as you’ll have me, I’ll never leave you.”

It was something he’d said before, something he did to make sure that his husband knew that he’d never stop him from leaving. But Daryl pulled up and away from Rick and he felt his absence acutely. It didn’t help that he was glaring at Rick with daggers in his eyes.

“As long as I’ll have you?” Daryl repeated his words in question form. “What kind a bullshit is that? Dammit Rick! You died in my arms and I think a piece a me died with you! I love you, you idiot! I’ll love you till the day I die and probably even after that! I can’t live without you and if you die on me again, I swear I’ll kill you!” And with that he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Rick’s.

For all the vehemence in his declaration, Daryl’s kiss was gentle, tender. It was as though he was pouring his heart and soul into the kiss but also remembered that Rick was injured and couldn’t handle the exuberance. With their lips pressed together, tongues dipping and tasting, Rick lost track of time. It could have been seconds, minutes, years that passed but he couldn’t care. They were learning each other again, kissing like they’d not seen each other in years as opposed to the barely two days Daryl had spoken of. His husband finally pulled away and Rick whimpered at the loss. Daryl pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Why the fuck would you say somethin’ like that?” He whispered the question as he leaned back to look Rick in the eye. 

“Because I don’t deserve you,” Rick replied so quietly, he was shocked that Daryl could even hear him. Daryl didn’t hesitate, he leaned back over him and pressed his forehead to Rick’s.

“Now where did you get a damn fool idea like that?”

“Look at me,” Rick strangled out. This recent brush with death just added another scar to his already marred body. He was tired of carrying his past on his skin, evidence that he’d almost died on his face for all to see. He was tired of looking like a monster, tired of wishing he was something else.

“I am,” Daryl insisted. “Know what I see?” He didn’t wait for Rick’s answer. “I see a man who refuses to give up. A man who survives over and over again, no matter what. I see a strong man. I see a man who has some scars,” Rick tried to look away, but Daryl cupped his cheek with his hand to stop him, “but they match my own. I see a man who is my other half. I see a man that I love.” Rick squeezed his eyes shut and felt tears slide down his cheeks. “Am I looking at a man who loves me too?”

“Daryl-”

“Am I?” He demanded.

“Yes. God yes, Daryl, I love you. I love you more than life itself.”

“Thank fuck,” he breathed before claiming Rick’s lips again. There was more heat to the kiss now, even with Daryl still being as careful as he could to not jostle Rick. They kissed for several more minutes before Daryl pulled away and rested his forehead on Rick’s. “Don’t chyou ever say anythin’ like that ever again.”

“As you wish, my wild rose,” he agreed with a smile. But then he sighed, a question burning in his mind. “How bad is it?”

Daryl kissed his brow and stood. He walked back to his side of the bed and crawled back in beside Rick, but he also pulled the blanket off of Rick. It was the first time Rick realized he wasn’t wearing anything, just covered by his bedding. Daryl’s hand brushed his left side and he looked down. Just under his ribs was a gash at least two inches long, stitched up but the skin around it was red and angry. 

“You lost a lot a blood before Doc could get you stitched up. And you got a fever but it’s gettin’ better. Doc...he said...he didn’t know how you were still alive.” 

“I do,” Rick answered quietly, knowing with his whole heart why he refused to embrace death like an old friend. He reached up and slid his hand from Daryl’s cheek to the back of his neck. “I could never leave you, beautiful. I could hear you,” he added quietly. Daryl’s eyes widened in shock and he continued. “I could hear you talking to me. I wanted to talk back to you. I tried to.”

“You could hear me?”

“To be fair, I did think that I was dreaming from time to time,” he admitted, “but they were such beautiful dreams.” He furrowed his brow, thinking about everything he remembered. “I suppose I did actually dream some of it. Mayhap, when the wound fully heals we can try.”

“Try?” Daryl’s brows came together in confusion.

“For a baby,” he clarified. “I dreamt that you were pregnant, my love.”

“Rick,” Daryl breathed out, “Rick, you… you didn’t dream that.”

“What?” Rick felt as though the breath had been knocked out of him. It couldn’t be. Could it?

“Rick… I’m pregnant.”

“You… you’re sure?”

Daryl nodded. “‘S why I wanted to go with the doctor. I wanted him to… check… make sure. We’re gonna have a baby,” he finished, his voice full of hope and happiness.

“Daryl!” Rick moved to sit up, to embrace his husband. But pain radiated through his side and chest. Daryl put a hand on him on pushed him gently back into the pillows.

“What did I just tell you?” He asked, but his voice was more fond than frustrated. “Everythin’s fine, ‘s far as he can tell, with me and the baby. But I don’t need you goin’ and tearin’ yer stitches out. Give me one less thing to worry about, husband. Please?”

Rick chuckled as soon as he got his breath back. “As you wish, my wild rose, as you wish.”


	20. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three years later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoys this tooth-rotting domestic fluff that ends our tale as old as time!

Daryl leaned against the doorframe looking into the library. The sight before him never ceased to amaze him, Rick lying on his stomach on the floor, helping their two year old son build with his wooden blocks. Carl was finally able to focus on one activity for more than a few seconds at a time, but nothing pleased him more than his daddy building a tower with the blocks so he could knock it down. And Rick would oblige him, over and over. The fact that he was able to lie on the floor for so long was still remarkable, but the old pain of his leg seemed to fade with more time instead of getting worse. Daryl was thankful for that. He was thankful for many things.

He was absently rubbing his still growing stomach when Carl knocked down yet another tower and squealed in delight. He clapped his hands and scrambled to his feet so that he could run to Daryl. Of course, he didn’t run into Daryl so much as into his legs and lower stomach.

“Oomph,” Daryl couldn’t help the noise that escaped as he caught his son. “Careful there, love.” But Carl didn’t even register his words.

“Papa! I knock it down!” And then he let go and ran back to the spot on the floor. “Daddy build! Daddy build!” He insisted.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Rick reached up and ruffled Carl’s hair, making it fly in every direction, before he started to build again.

Daryl chuckled and shook his head. Their son had Rick wrapped around his little finger and Daryl loved it. Just the fact that Rick was able to see him be born and grow up was a blessing. Daryl rubbed his stomach again. His skin was stretched to its limit, his ankles were swollen, and the morning sickness still plagued him, but he found that he wasn’t even the slightest bit annoyed about any of those things. They were going to have another child any day now. He couldn’t wait to see if it was a boy or girl; in all of his dreams she was a girl and though he hadn’t told Rick yet, he’d already picked out a name. 

“Hey there, baby brother,” Merle’s voice pulled him from his thoughts and he turned to see his brother leaning on the other side of the doorway. “How ya feelin’?”

“Like a beached whale,” Daryl chuckled. He saw Rick look up in concern but he just winked at his husband. Rick smiled and went back to building blocks with Carl. Daryl turned to Merle.

“How are you? I feel like I hardly see you anymore.” And it was true. Whenever Merle came up to the manor from his little cottage, it was always to see Carol. Daryl knew it was slow going; Carol was resisting his advances like she’d been born to do so. But he also knew Merle was the most stubborn ass he’d ever met and wasn’t likely to give up easily. It was just as well; his infatuation with Carol kept his mind off the bottle and on the wagon, so Daryl couldn’t complain.

“Yeah well, been busy, ya know?” He answered but was looking at the floor. 

“Sure you have, Merle. You should ask to sit next to her at Aaron and Eric’s wedding next month.”

“I don’t know what the hell yer talkin’ bout,” Merle mumbled.

“And bring her a rose. I know where the best ones grow.”

“Brother you couldn’t walk out to the treeline if yer life depended on it right now,” Merle teased him.

“I could still take you, ya know.”

“I’d like to see that,” Rick chuckled from the floor. “You pregnant, him with one arm, in a fight to the death!” And he fell over in a fit of giggles.

“Daddy!” Carl took advantage of Rick’s compromised position and jumped on top of his stomach. Rick caught him with a grunt and Daryl felt his heart stutter in irrational fear. It had been so long since Rick’s injury had given him even a twinge of pain. But old habits die hard and seeing their son land right where the knife had pierced his husband made his breath catch in panic. It must have also shown on his face as well because Rick’s smile faded. He kissed the top of Carl’s head and slid him to the floor.

“Let me up, you little rascal,” he said as he stood. He walked over to Daryl, leaned over his enormous stomach and brushed a kiss to his lips. “No need to worry, sweetling. I swear to you that I’m fine.”

“I know, I know,” Daryl mollified him, but he still sighed in relief.

“How are you? Would you like to sit down?”

“That would require me walkin’ to the couch. ‘M fine right here,” he leaned his head against the unyielding wood for emphasis. “The door frame ‘n’ me have gotten well acquainted.”

Rick gave a soft chuckle, “My stubborn wild rose.”

Daryl closed his eyes and smiled. “Yep.” Rick kissed him again and then left to go play with Carl.

The afternoon continued peacefully. Merle stayed for tea, giving Carol a wink which she decidedly ignored when she delivered the tray. Daryl was finally feeling relaxed with his feet propped up in Rick’s lap, when the first pain hit. It was sharp and sudden. So unexpected that he dropped his cup, spilling tea on the floor. 

“Daryl?” Rick sat up in concern when he hunched in on himself against the pain his own body was creating.

“Rick,” he panted, “the baby’s comin’.”

“Stay with him,” Rick hurled the command at Merle as he flew out of the room.

“Papa?” Carl toddled over to him, his little nose scrunched up in worry and confusion.

“I’m alright, baby,” he ran a hand over Carl’s hair and down his cheek. “Your little brother or sister is comin’ now.” Daryl waited until the next pain hit and breathed through it, trying to remember everything he did the day Carl was born.

Rick was back in record time, red in the face from moving so fast. “Tyrese has gone for the doctor,” he announced. “Can you make it up the stairs, sweetling?”

“Yeah,” Daryl answered before turning to Merle. “Can you stay and keep Carl?”

“O course, baby brother. We’ll be fine. Won’t we, sport?”

“Uh huh!” Carl barreled over to Merle and immediately tried to pull him on the floor and coax him into playing horse, which Merle did remarkably well for a man with only one arm. 

Daryl gave them one last smile before leaning against Rick so that his husband could support him as they made their way up the stairs.

Less than four hours later, Daryl was watching his husband holding their new baby girl. Rick was hovering beside the bed as the doctor finished up with him and then left. He was exhausted but he couldn’t take his eyes off the soft little bundle in Rick’s arms.

“Do you have a name picked out?”

“Judith,” he whispered.

Rick gave him a playful smirk, “You’ve had that name planned for some time.”

“Maybe I have, maybe I haven’t,” he smirked right back.

“I love it all the same,” his husband’s gaze softened. “Judith.” He brought her up to eye level and then placed a soft kiss to her forehead. But little Judith did not seem to agree. Just as Rick brought her back down to his chest she let out a loud wail of disapproval.

“Give her to me,” he commanded gently and Rick immediately obliged him. As Daryl positioned her against his chest, Rick walked around the bed and crawled in beside him. 

“Is this alright?” Rick asked.

“Of course it is,” Daryl assured him. He sighed into the warmth and comfort of Rick’s body and was just beginning to think he might be able to sleep for a bit when there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Rick called. The door opened to reveal Aaron, soothing a trembling Carl, the little boy clinging to the butler’s leg. 

“Someone wishes to see you,” Aaron said gently.

“It’s alright, son,” Rick beckoned him with an open arm. Carl ran to the bed and climbed up into his father’s embrace. Aaron left, discreetly closing the door. “What’s wrong?”

“Is papa okay?” He asked in his small little voice. 

“I’m perfectly fine, Carl,” Daryl assured him. He saw Carl’s little head poke around Rick’s torso and his eyes locked on to the baby in his arms. “Would you like to meet your little sister?” When Carl nodded vigorously, Rick helped him climb over so that he was situated between the two men and much closer to their newest family member. Daryl maneuvered her so that she could see, even though her eyes were closing more and more. “Carl, this is your sister, Judith. Judith, meet your big brother Carl.”

“She’s little,” Carl complained with a wrinkled nose. 

Rick laughed loudly, causing Judith to startle a bit. “You were that little once,” he said, nudging the little boy’s shoulder.

“I was?”

“You were indeed,” Daryl answered, “but you’re all grown up now. And that means you’ll have to help daddy and me take care of Judith. You think you can do that?” Daryl tried to hold back a smile as their son’s eyes widened at the seriousness of growing up. He nodded again and Daryl cupped his neck and kissed the top of his head just to get him to stop. Kid would nod his head off if it wasn’t attached, he grumbled to himself. 

When he looked back up, Rick was looking at him, watching him with the softest of smiles. Daryl smiled back at him, unable to contain his joy. His new baby girl was in his arms, his son at his side, and his husband that he loved more than life itself holding them all in a loose embrace.

“I love you, Daryl,” Rick whispered.

“And I love you, Rick.” He looked at his husband expectantly, offering his lips in a silent plea for Rick to kiss him. They may have only been together for three years, but they could read each other as though it had been a thousand lifetimes. Rick leaned down and kissed him, soft and quick, almost a habit, but with the promise of more to come. As certain as the sun rose in the east, there would be more. More kisses, more love, more days together. It was something Daryl would treasure forever, the promise of more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone has enjoyed this fairytale based story with our favorite guys! Thank you so much for all the wonderful feed back! A huge thank you to TWDObsessive and to HelixaHallwood for all the encouragement and brainstorming, and a special thanks to Helixa for beta'ing not only this chapter but for so many others.  
This one may be over, but I have another fairytale based story in the works that I'm super super excited about. I'll hopefully have enough after the new year to start posting, but until then hope everyone has a great holiday season!


End file.
